


to have a home

by timequakes



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: F/F, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-12
Updated: 2013-04-21
Packaged: 2017-11-18 12:03:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 48,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/560864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timequakes/pseuds/timequakes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Co-written with reckless-harmonium on tumblr. An AU wherein Tobin and Alex move in together before the 2011 World Cup.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. one

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter is rated K, but eventually the rating will go up~

The smell of ‘new car’ has nothing on the smell of ‘new house’. She didn’t remember that about moving in; she’s been living in other people’s houses and apartments for so long. The nomadic life suits her, but she’s older now, and she knows she’s going to run out of money and energy if she doesn’t have somewhere to take a breath. She’s always been her own safe place, but she’s ready to have a real place to call her own. So when Alex brought up this little house in the suburbs of LA, mentioned she couldn’t keep up with it all on her own....how was Tobin going to turn her down?

It’s been years since she’s lived in a house. And it’s not like the house is really any bigger than an apartment, but it has a tiny little yard, all scrubby grass and weeds and potential she wants to fulfill. It has a garage; neither of them has a car. It has a driveway. And a little front porch. And it has two tiny bedrooms, one for each of them, but their kitchen table is in the living area and the bathroom is so small that the two of them standing in it at the same time takes up all the available space.

Tobin loves it.

Alex loves that Tobin loves it. She can see it in the way that Tobin’s face lights up every time they mention anything about the house. It’s a different kind of smile then whenever they talk about anything else different even from when Tobin talks about soccer, or nutmegging someone- different even from when Tobin and Lauren are talking about biblical stories. And whenever someone from the team asks how the house, Alex loves watching the way Tobin flashes her gigantic, white smile. Loves the way that for each subject and for each person, Tobin has a different smile. Each of them unique, special, and all equally genuine. 

When Christie asks about the yard, the neighborhood, and other typical motherly questions, Alex likes to watch as Tobin laughs and tells her about how the yard isn’t even big enough for a net, how she wants to cut the grass and plant flowers along the border of the porch. Another smile fills Tobin’s face as the youngest, curly-haired teammate came bounding towards them.

“Toby, mommy said that you and Alice bought a house!” Rylie jumps up and down with an energy that rivals Megan’s. Tobin laughs heartily and pats Rylie on the head.

“Yeah, that’s right! Alex,” she corrected “and I bought a house. Will you come over and see it sometime?” Tobin asks.

“Can I, mommy? Please!” Rylie begs as she tugs at Christie’s jersey. They are all so wrapped up in the energy and the cuteness of the little kid that none of them notice Alex approaching from the distance. Alex finds it funny too that she can sneak up on her friends like she sneaks up on an opponent’s back line. Her presence remains unnoticed until she comes and stands right next to Tobin- throwing an arm around her shoulders and pulling her close.

“Sure you can come, Rylie. You’re welcome to our house anytime!” Alex says as she releases her grip on Tobin’s opposite shoulder. Our house sounds weird coming from her lips. She never referred to her tiny apartment with her ex as their apartment or their place. It was always his like everything seemed to be since he signed the lease papers, he paid the bills, he made the rules. The idea of our sounded weird as it slipped from between Alex’s lips. But it did not taste strange, nor was it filled with bitter regret. Instead it tasted sweet, like that weird Swedish chocolate Pia always brought them.

Tobin never realized that sharing a house- really sharing a house, not living in someone else’s house- meant sharing so much. She doesn’t mind, of course. Especially because it’s Alex, who somehow manages to make everything fun and new every time they do it. “This is the first time we’re checking our mail,” she’ll announce, or, “this is the first time we’re putting out ant poisoning,” and then those mundane little things just seem so special. Within days the musty ‘new house’ smell is gone and she can tell it’s starting to be a home instead of just a place.

Even if it’s a little small, it’s perfect. Their shoulders bump when they brush their teeth or pass each other in the narrow hallway between their rooms. Sometimes Tobin will stop in that hallway and look up at the miniscule sunroof (why was it even put there? it’s hardly big enough to see the stars through) and one time when she does she sees that Alex has put a post-it-note there that says, “you’re going to hurt your neck”. They set up all sorts of tacit little systems that just work, things like Tobin checks the mail and Alex usually cooks, because Alex usually forgets the mail and Tobin burns everything.

One Sunday Tobin comes back from church and Alex has torn apart the whole house in an attempt to clean. They’ve barely lived there three weeks and Alex is already rearranging things and vacuuming (when did they get a vacuum?) and everything smells like Febreeze. Alex has her back to Tobin, her dorky red headphones on, and is doing some kind of Backstreet Boys / Swiffer remix at the top of her lungs that sends Tobin into hysterics within seconds. Alex doesn’t even notice her until she’s calmed down enough to try to be coherent.

“Alex, what are you doing?” Tobin asks calmly, for the third time. By now, Alex is fumbling with her headphones and trying to turn down the music all without dropping the cleaning supplies and tools she has placed on various parts of her body.

“Uhh... Well, I was trying to move the furniture around. You, fong way or whatever that thing Lori was telling us to do-” Alex tries to explain herself.

“First, it’s feng shui. And second, we have a futon and an end table- how creative can you get here?” Tobin chuckles because in this moment she has never seen something so ridiculous.

“Well, I know but Lori was saying that moving furniture keeps things fresh or something and I was bored and you were off at church or something so I figured, why not. How was it by the way?” Alex inquires.

“How was what?” Tobin’s confused and her eyebrows show it.

“Church.” Alex says as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. And perhaps it is. Perhaps Tobin was not really paying close attention. Perhaps she was distracted by the sight of Alex dancing around the living room in a sports bra, Tobin’s favorite pair of boxers, and socks that she was pretty sure Alex was wearing to practice yesterday.

“Oh, uhh...” Tobin tries to bring her mind back to her body, “...it was good. The pastor prayed for the team today. He talked about how Lauren and I go there weekly and how we were leaving to go over to Germany soon. He pointed to us and then we all prayed and as we were leaving were heard people saying how they didn’t even know that there was a women’s team.” Tobin sighs.

“They’ll know soon!” Alex cheers. “Can you picture it now?” She begins, dropping all of the supplies to the cracked wooden floor, “Our names, up in lights on the national stage! I think this is our year, Tobs. We’ve all been working so hard. I mean, I know we were last to qualify and the odds are kind of against us but I think we can do it, don’t you?” Alex babbles on and Tobin just kind of shrugs.

“I guess. I mean, if anyone is going to have their name up in lights, it’ll be you.” Tobin smiles eagerly towards Alex.

“I doubt it.” Alex shrugs as she picks up the cleaning supplies, “I’m just a substitute.” Her voice drops when she says it, it softens so much that it is barely a whisper. A big contrast to the sound that Tobin’s bible makes as she drops it to the newly relocated end table.

“You aren’t just a substitute,” Tobin exclaims and refrains from saying that Alex isn’t just an anything. Instead she passionately babbles on about Alex’s skills and potential and how she should never give up on her dreams, because they do happen.


	2. two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the World Cup begins, things get intense.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> still rated K for now!

Practices very quickly pass the point of ‘intense’ and enter a level that neither of them have ever experienced before. It’s not just the coaches, either; they all push each other harder than they ever have had the guts to, and while Tobin knows it’ll pay off in the end, she can’t help but notice the toll it’s taking on Alex. Alex, who is already so hard on herself, who already pushes herself to and then past her breaking point at every opportunity she gets. Taking shots from crosses across the field isn’t anything new, but the pressure that’s on the strikers is. Some of them are used to that pressure and perform well under it- Abby in particular- but Alex is flagging with each minute that passes. She takes five shots and makes one.

“I feel like I’m running and kicking underwater,” she sighs, reaching for her water bottle. Tobin knows the feeling; it’s the feeling you get in the midst of a nightmare when you’re trying to run from something but can’t. She also knows that this is all in Alex’s head, somehow, and takes a few seconds to decide the best way to tell her so. “You’re thinking about it too much,” she offers, straightening her socks out, “you’re way better than you think. You have to just let go and do what feels right. You have the instincts for it.” Alex smiles down at the ground and Tobin wonders what it is about her frank compliment that has made her suddenly shy. “I dunno,” Alex mumbles a little, but Tobin can see she’s starting to believe again. “Sure you do,” she finishes, “if you didn’t have what it took, you wouldn’t be here. None of us would be.”

But what is here? Is ‘here’ on the team, or as the last qualified team for the World Cup? Is ‘here’ at practice, or boarding the plane? 

It’s been coming for weeks and it’s not as if it could have snuck up on them. They’ve been thinking about it every waking moment since they were sure they’d be on the board, but something about being here now is surprising all on its own. None of them are very talkative. Kelley at least is trying to diffuse some of the tension, but for once nobody’s willing to play along. Tobin had heard Alex pacing around her room well past 3 in the morning and it’s only just pushing 7. She, herself, had spent most of the night juggling the ball from foot to foot, trying to distract herself for long enough to sleep and failing miserably. Her stomach is in knots and even the comforting weight of her Bible in her hands isn’t helping all that much this time.

Alex can tell, of course. Tobin knows she can’t hide anything from Alex and she wouldn’t even try to begin with, because it’s not her thing. “What, are you nervous or something?” Alex jokes as they take their seats, and Tobin manages a weak smile. “Nah. Tired.” That’s enough to make Alex a little less concerned and a little more self-conscious, as if she didn’t hear Tobin up all night (which is impossible unless she had her headphones on for three straight hours): “Did I keep you up?”

Tobin nudges Alex’s shoulder with her own and now her smile is genuine, if small. “No way. It’s always nice to know you’re there.”

And they are both always there for each other. Whether they are seated next to each other on the bench, or if one if out on the field- it only takes a glance to communicate. Words have become unnecessary. All that is really needed, and all it really takes, it a side glance in the downtime between plays to communicate what they both want to say to each other over the sound of the roaring crowd. But in reality, they don’t have much distance to cover. 

It’s the first game, a tough opener against Korea, and they are both sitting on the bench. Close enough that their bouncing knees are tapping against each other every few seconds. After the first few times, the feeling isn’t strange, it’s welcome- comforting even. By the end of the first half, it feels weird to not have their bare skin bouncing lightly together. In the locker room during half time, Pia gives the team a motivational speech. The score is 0-0, they still have another forty-five minutes to change that. The team moves off towards the tunnel and both Tobin and Alex are hoping that Pia will stop them and say, “We need you today.” But they are still young, and even though Tobin’s got a gold medal under her belt already she hasn’t been that confident as of late. They still sit anxiously together as the second half begins.They cheer in unison when Lauren scores a beautiful goal in the 54th minute. Around the 70th minute, Pia approaches and tells Alex to prepare and that she’ll be going in soon. Tobin looks up anxiously at Pia, her eyes wide hoping for a chance to prove herself. But it doesn’t come. Instead Pia taps Alex’s shoulder and hurries her along. Tobin wants to shout good luck, but she knows that Alex won’t be able to hear it. And truth be told, she knows Alex doesn’t need it. The thought of how useless she is in Alex’s life passes through her mind briefly. But she shakes it off, they’re friends first, teammates second. But after being subbed in in the 75th minute, the game changes quickly, barely a minute later Bue somehow manages to find the back of the net. And though it’s seemingly unrelated, Tobin can’t shake the feeling that Alex helped that goal happen somehow- that Alex made a difference without Tobin- that she, like speech between them, is unnecessary. 

Not that she’d ever say that out loud; not in a million years. Besides, it’s a stupid thought- she knows this- and it would only make Alex feel guilty or weird about the whole thing, and that’s the last thing Tobin wants. She’s proud that Alex was subbed in; proud that she went out and was a part of such a close and action-packed game, and most of all proud of the way Alex played, but part of her aches to be out on that field again.

Alex gets wind of Tobin’s restlessness anyway, though, in the days that separate the North Korea match and the impending Columbia match. She tries to stay out of Alex’s way and keep her frantic juggling and stress-prompted watercolor breaks to a minimum, but from the beginning she knows it’s worthless. Just as she can see the relief that colors Alex’s every move, she’s well aware that she’s an open book. The best she can do is hope she doesn’t get coerced into talking about it. And she almost makes it.

 

“You were talking in your sleep last night,” Alex mentions as she saunters into their hotel room bathroom. Tobin splashes some water onto her face and towels it off before bothering to answer: “Sorry. Did I wake you up?”

 

“Nah.”

 

They’re halfway through brushing their teeth before Alex speaks again around a mouthful of toothpaste. “Are you nervous or something?” Tobin could swear Alex asks her before every game. Her answer is never any different, but it’s also usually a lie. It certainly is this time. “Nope,” she rinses off the toothbrush and puts it away without making eye contact, “just hoping I get subbed in this time.”

 

Her only hope of avoiding the rest of this conversation is if she can manage to downplay her hopes enough that Alex misses exactly how much she wants this game. Luckily for her, Alex is peering very closely at herself in the mirror (like she even needs to, considering she looks perfect before she even tries), so the conversation ends with, “I’m sure you will be.” Casually. Like it’s a real possibility.

 

Tobin finds that she wants to believe it, too.

 

It’s like Alex has some sudden psychic ability. They’re both on the bench more than half of the game, and every time something interesting is about to happen, Alex calls the play. At ten minutes in when Heather is toeing the back line, she says, “Give her a few minutes and we’ll be up one to nothing.” Two minutes later she drives one perfectly into the back left corner of the net. It’s the kind of shot you shouldn’t be able to see coming- but Alex did. “Dumb luck,” Tobin kids, “you won’t predict the next one.”

 

But she does. Megan goes in for Amy at halftime and within five minutes she sends a shot in from a cross that sets her up perfectly in front of the goal- she’s in the right place at the right time and as the ball sails into the air, over the roaring crowd Alex nudges Tobin and shouts, “Goal!” And so it is. Neither of them expect the shot on their goal that comes after that, but Hope does. Her last second dive leaves plenty of time for the bench to collectively have a heart attack, complete with Kelley grabbing Tobin’s arm and even a groan of ‘oh, no,’ from Shannon. 

 

Tobin starts to get antsy again around the hour mark. Even from here she can see Heather tiring, can see her start to play more conservatively, and with a narrow 2-goal lead there’s not a lot of that they can afford. Every time Pia’s gaze moves down the bench she can feel herself sit a little straighter, breathe a little deeper, and when Carli takes a shot off her right foot that pockets nicely into the top corner and leaves them at 3-0, Alex leans over to make her final prediction: “She’s gonna put you in.”

 

“Maybe,” is Tobin’s terse reply. Then, more softly, and mostly to her hands- “I hope so.”

 

A few minutes later, Tobin finds herself exactly where she wants to be- on the sidelines behind the ref giving her the number information to display on the board. As Heather runs over, Tobin claps proudly from the side, high fives her teammate and begins to run over to the other side of the field. She can’t hear it over the crowd still roaring over Heather, Megan, and Carli’s goals, but on the bench Alex is cheering and clapping for her. Play goes on until about the 84th minute when Abby gets carded and Tobin thinks for a second that maybe, just to be safe, Pia will take Abby off the field and put in Alex, but then she remembers that she’s actually the third and final sub. She wishes Alex was on the field with her, but when she brushes her hand across her chest to wipe the grass stain and feels her heart beating rapidly, she knows that Alex is always with her. The quick glance to the bench confirms it as Tobin sees Alex staring at her, eyes wide with a big goofy smile and giving Tobin a thumbs up. The whistle blows, the crowd cheers, the players shake hands, and Alex hands Tobin a water bottle and says “You played great, Tobs” as she throws her arm around her shoulder and they walk together back into the tunnel.

 

And then there’s the final group stage match against Sweden which Tobin doesn’t play in, Alex comes in as a half-time substitute and gets a couple good touches, Abby scores the lone goal, and Kelley comes in as a sub for Megan. They lose this game. The locker room is sombre and quiet as everyone processes the loss. Tobin wanders around trying to find Alex and she eventually does. She’s got those giant headphones on and her body is tucked into the confines of the locker. She’s still in her kit, with the exception of the jersey which she’s gripping in her hands- staring blankly at the number. Tobin leans down and taps her shoulder.

“...Alex?” she whispers as she continues to tap Alex’s shoulder pulling her from her trance. Eventually, she looks up, eyes filled with tears she’s holding back, and she pulls the headphones from her head and drops them unceremoniously to the ground.

“Alex, what’s going on?” Tobin asks, her concern growing. At first Alex just shakes her head, she doesn’t have to tell anyone what’s bothering her. Tobin takes a wild guess because she knows eventually Alex will cave and speak her mind.

“Hey, it’s okay that we lost this game. So we didn’t win the group, oh well.” Tobin shrugs before continuing, “We’re still moving on, our time isn’t out yet.” Tobin concludes. Alex lets some tears fall as she grips the jersey tighter. She nods her head.

“I know. It’s just- I took this number because it’s lucky for me, and I wear this jersey for Lil. But right now I can’t measure up, I don’t deserve to wear this jersey.” Alex angrily throws the jersey across the room, thankfully everyone has wandered off to drop their laundry and shower.

“Hey, shh, no. Don’t you ever say that!” Tobin warns as she walks across the room and picks up the jersey. “You do deserve this number. This is your jersey now. It’s our time, Alex. The 99’ers they are done, well except Christie, but I don’t think she’ll ever be done” Tobin jokes and Alex lets out a chuckle “They had their time, they have their achievements. This is our time, our chance. Don’t look back, look forward!” Tobin encourages and the smile slowly spreading across Alex’s face must mean that it’s working.

“Help me out?” Alex laughs and Tobin does to as she reaches to take her hand to pull her out of her dark locker and into the light of the locker room. Alex thanks her and they hug for a few moments before the sound of Abby’s voice requesting everyone’s presence in the giant ice bath fills the room.

“Come on, let’s get you cooled down,” Tobin jokes as they walk toward the ice baths. And Alex laughs and playfully pushes Tobin’s shoulder, knocking her slightly off balance but ready to reach out and catch her, as always.


	3. three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The World cup draws to a close and Alex shares a dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter's a little angsty (obviously), and still rated k, but from here on out things will be better :)

For a little while Alex distracts her. They're tourists when they're not practicing, and Germany is beautiful no matter the city, but Tobin finds that she misses home. She hasn't had a home to miss since she moved into college, and it's a strange feeling. She doesn't miss the scrubby little house as much as she misses the sense of belonging it lent. She misses waking to the same slant of LA sunlight and she misses being able to get water in the night and hear Alex's deep breathing when she passed her door. 

Alex misses Tobin more than she misses the house. They're not rooming together and she hates to be jealous but when she sees Tobin and Amy head for their room, her stomach lurches. She's well aware that Tobin and Amy and Lauren are all close, but she misses Tobin's presence, and every chance she gets she sticks herself as if with glue to the midfielder's side. Tobin's very existence calms her; the press of her left knee against her friend's right and the familiar smile remind her of feng shui and home cooked dinners and a simpler time where the weight of the world was on someone else’s shoulders. 

By contrast, Tobin craves that weight. More than anything she wishes Pia would give her a chance to prove her worth again. She's grown a lot in the last year, and she's ready for her work to pay off. The Brazil game is the right game for her to try and do that. Two minutes in they're leading 1-0 when Boxx sends a cross in and one of the Brazilian defenders turns it in so that it goes into her own goal. Tobin's not sure she's ever heard a crowd cheer that loudly. 

The next sixty or so minutes are tense and breathless even on the bench. Part of her can’t even imagine what it’s like on the field, and the rest of her knows- she’s been there before. This is different. Sitting next to Alex, watching the back and forths and noticing places she would have stepped in to help- something about this game is different. In the sixty-fourth Rachel takes out one of the top Brazilian players in a move that silences the entire stadium. They all know it was instinct. Tobin’s pretty much positive that any of them would have done just about the same- but that doesn’t change the call, and it certainly doesn’t change the defeat that settles in the defender’s shoulders as she’s sent off the field.

The whole dynamic of the bench changes after that. They’re a player short now on the field and nobody can comfort Rachel, no matter how hard any of them might try. The best they can do is hope- hope that those of them on the field will recover, or hope that they’ll have a chance to go in and make a difference. 

None of them are expecting the save Hope pulls on that penalty kick, but if that’s not enough of a surprise, the call that follows is beyond belief. They’re on the edge of the bench, some of them disbelieving, others angry, and Tobin doesn’t know what she feels other than like she might get up and run onto the field without meaning to unless she sits on her hands. As soon as the goal is scored that ties them up, she makes a frustrated noise and leans back. The only person that notices is Alex. She doesn’t try to talk about it, doesn’t try to make it okay, because she knows it’s not, and Tobin knows that she’s feeling the same restlessness, because what she does say is: “I know.”

Seventy in and Pia walks toward the bench. All of them are hoping to be put in, but Pia never decides on the spot- she knows in advance who she’s going to put in, and this time, she goes straight to Alex. 

Tobin isn’t sure if she’s more excited or jealous. Not jealous of Alex, exactly, but of anyone on that field. When Amy takes Alex’s seat she finds that she feels alone- even though she and Amy have been close since practically the moment they met. It’s not the same. It’s like, with Alex gone, Tobin has to anchor herself. And when Marta scores in the ninety-second, she has to close her eyes for a moment and brace herself for what she’s sure is going to be the remainder of a game on the bench.

Ten minutes later she’s so focused on what’s happening on the field that she doesn’t notice Pia until she hears her name, and by then it’s too late to prepare herself to get on the field- she just has to wing it. And that’s what she does. For twelve precious minutes she tries to bring something to the field, tries to change the course of the game, and even though she doesn’t get many touches in, all her tension drains away. She forgets the score, forgets the crowd, forgets what’s at stake until Abby scores and in the rush to celebrate she makes eye contact with Alex. 

Shannon is the first to take a shot. The rest of them are standing huddled together, watching, and Tobin is fairly certain that the only one of them that’s breathing is Abby. Alex reaches for Tobin’s hand and their fingers knot together. Tobin can’t help but wonder if Alex needs to be close as badly as she does or if she’s just going a little crazy from lack of sleep. Until Hope’s save it feels like this is just going to go on forever, until her fingers are numb and her palm is sweaty- and then suddenly all of them are jumping and screaming again, and it’s down to the wire, and she’s never seen Carli chew her fingernails before but she’s pretty sure that’s what she’s seeing, and she’s hearing herself pray under her breath, and she’s feeling Alex’s hand find hers again as Ali steps up to the ball.

And then they’re all yelling and some of them crying, Rachel’s crying, and hugging everybody, and it doesn’t matter that there are more games to be played because this is the game. Tobin wants to live in those minutes forever.

But she can’t- something’s coming, something looming and inevitable but invisible until it strikes.

Defeat.  
Crushing.   
Out of their hands.  
Defeat.

After that final game, the team is struck with the awful feeling of being so close to glory and falling just short. Second place doesn't seem far away. Logically, it's a step down on the podium. But as the team watches the Japanese celebrate from only a few yards away, they are crushed by the feeling that first place is never as close as it seems- seconds in track, a twist in the wrong direction in gymnastics- all of these things are calculable errors, minute details. They had five opportunities on one goal with the back-up goalkeeper standing as their opponent. The world, the glory, the goals, they were right there, only yards away. Now, as they watch from the sidelines, the team feels like Pluto, millions of miles away just trying to capture a glimpse of sunlight so they too can feel that warm glory.

After that final game also happens to mark the night that Tobin and Alex first shared a bed in a more significant way than ever before. Convenience and limited space made them share a bed before, but that too was out of their hands. This was a choice, a conscious preference to share a bed. Not for spatial issues. Not for anything other than the fact that it was warmer that way. They comforted in being so physically close to one another. It was nice to be able to hold each other in the darkness and cold of the night as they cried themselves to sleep for weeks after the final. Mornings were better though. When bodies intertwined and they woke up to that sun-kissed warmth of the golden rays pouring through the window. Waking up to gold was tough though. At first glance it reminded them of what they didn't have. Then they would sigh, blink, and smile because it was more of a reminder of what they did not have- yet.

The entire team throws themselves into training with the most aggressive passion Alex has ever seen and she loves it. It’s infectious, it’s incessant, and she loves it. In the first week and a half back she can already feel herself getting faster, stronger, more aware, and her mood just skyrockets every time she sets foot on the field. Something big is going to happen if they keep working the way they’re working, she knows it. The thing is, something’s off, and it takes her a few days to see it clearly but once she does she can’t stop thinking about it. 

It’s Tobin. She’s not performing the way Alex knows she can. She’s tentative and quiet all of a sudden, and her constant smile is all but gone. It’s like the game isn’t fun for her anymore, and that is just not going to fly. Not in the slightest.

They’re not crying themselves to sleep anymore, so there’s no real reason why they’re still sharing a bed, but Alex’s old bed hasn’t been made in weeks and she’s not about to change the way things are right now. Tobin equates comfort in Alex’s mind.

She’s kind of expecting the reaction she gets when she asks what’s wrong. Tobin turns a page in her surfing magazine, yawns a little, and makes a ‘huh?’ kind of noise in the back of her throat. 

“You’ve been off lately.”

“I dunno what you’re talking about,” Tobin says, but her voice is uneven and rough with the strain of hiding whatever she’s hiding. Alex sits up, crossing her legs indian-style, and plucks the magazine right out of Tobin’s hands. Tobin sighs and drops her hands, staring straight ahead like she’s afraid eye contact will let Alex see right through her. “Tobs,” Alex tries again, this time a little gentler, “You know you can tell me anything.”

That’s enough for a little more loaded silence, but she knows right away that Tobin’s about to spill something pretty big, because she bites her lips before she says a single word. 

“I missed that PK,” she says, so softly that Alex isn’t sure she heard it at all. “If I hadn’t...”

“We still would have lost.” Alex is well aware now that Tobin’s about to blame herself, and she’s determined not to let that happen. “Shannon and Carli’s shots were both saved before yours was. If you had made it, we would have gotten 2 of our 4 in, and Japan still would have gotten 3.”

Tobin shrugs. “Still, I...was subbed in for Megan and I can’t help but wonder if she would have made it. She scored on a PK with Brazil, you know?” Alex shakes her head and turns so that she’s facing Tobin completely, and Tobin’s eyes drop to her hands. “You can’t possibly know whether or not she would have made it, come on. It was a different goalie. It was a different game. And you making that shot wouldn’t have made any difference. We had already lost, Tobin. We had probably already lost the second any of us set foot on the field that day. That’s how things work sometimes.” The pain is coming back to both of them now, like a reopened wound, and even though Alex doesn’t want it she knows this time it’ll heal over better. She didn’t want to be moving forward if she was moving forward without Tobin- and how quintessentially Tobin was it to blame herself for a team’s collective defeat and not say a single word about it?

“You’re right,” Tobin sighs, finally looking up. She’s trying to smile, but Alex isn’t done yet. “I know I am. And you know what else I’m right about? This happened for a reason, Tobs. And I think the reason is that we’re meant for something...something bigger.”

Tobin blinks. Alex whispers, “London,” and it sounds more like a promise than a dream.


	4. four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating moves to a mild M for this chapter!

Things click into place after that and the change in Tobin is so drastic that people start to notice. Nobody asks her outright, but in a quiet moment Kelley pulls Alex aside and says, under her breath, “Did you do something to her, or what?” Alex just laughs. So far her dreams of London are too big to share with anyone but Tobin, but each day that passes brings them closer, and she knows that Kelley will catch on sooner or later. She’s not sure she could really put it all into words again anyway, so she doesn’t answer at all. Watching Tobin play reaches high on her list of favorite pastimes now; the earlier-christened ‘nutmeg queen’ is adding new twists and turns and loops to the game each day that nobody’s ever really seen before. Tobin plays like a Swede, a Brazilian, and an American combined- technically proficient, beyond agile, and with enough heart to carry the team on her narrow shoulders alone.

 

Tobin feels that she’s improving, she can feel herself playing smarter, better. The rest of the team notices too. They congratulate her after she scores an impressive goal in practice, even Hope comes over to give her a hug and tell her that she was not expecting that goal. Tobin doesn’t just feel like she is playing better than ever before, she knows it. Her already enormous smile grows wider after each final whistle at the end of practice. She holds her head especially high after practice when Pia tells her that if she keeps up her level of play, she’ll be starting and finishing games in no time. 

 

Alex notices too, of course. As Tobin grows more confident, her personality begins to shine through on the field. It’s incredible really, how easily and naturally Tobin is able to find Alex ahead on the field, put the ball through multiple defender’s legs, and find Alex’s head or feet with almost no trouble at all. Their connection is uncanny, and the whole team notices just how connected they are.

 

But on the whole, nobody gets it quite like they do. That seems cliquey and cliche’, but it’s true- they still wake up in the same bed long after it’s needed strictly for comfort, and that means that there are things that only they know, like how Alex sleeps curled up on one side, hand tucked under her chin in a fist so that she looks like she’s imitating the Thinker, or how Tobin might walk into one room wearing socks and lose them somehow between that room and the next, or how Alex likes her scrambled eggs all weird and soupy and Tobin can’t have hers without toast so toasted that it’s almost burnt.

 

Alex, on top of sleeping like she’s carved out of stone, is also a cover-stealer. This presents a problem. 

 

Of course, the easy way to settle that would be for Tobin to go grab the extra comforter off of what used to be Alex’s bed, but that would be not only a concrete reminder that it’s unnecessary for them to be sleeping together, but also a form of giving up. They’re both far too competitive for that.

 

No, instead of getting the extra comforter, Tobin tucks her corner beneath her arm and rolls. Alex isn’t expecting it and Tobin ends up with the entire comforter draped over her. To the sound of her surprised laughter, the fight begins in earnest. Alex grabs the blanket with both hands and pulls, but Tobin is ready and it barely gives. Within moments they’re both kicking, pulling, pushing, and hysterically laughing. The longer they fight the more absurd it gets, until the blanket falls to a heap on the floor next to Alex’s side and they both freeze.

 

They make eye contact for a heartbeat before Tobin dives over Alex and onto the floor. She barely has time to roll over before Alex has her pinned to the floor with the blanket underneath her. They’re both laughing still at the stupidity of the whole thing, both breathless with laughter, and Alex has fallen braced on her elbows so that their faces are inches apart and their noses brush. 

 

Alex dips her head and they kiss. 

 

It’s one of those moments- there aren’t many, but they are real- that are in the blood of how they both are made. It is a moment of inevitable free fall where both of their hearts are in suspension and they are somewhere between caring too much and not caring at all.

 

They kiss and kiss and kiss until they have to stop to smile, and then they kiss again and Tobin works up the courage to reach up and touch Alex’s cheek, the softness of skin drawing her closer and making her sit up on her elbow to give her more control. Alex isn’t as shy about it. It’s her taking all the forward steps here as is often the case, but Tobin matches her in every sense: Alex touches Tobin’s back and Tobin slides her hand around to the back of her neck. Alex leans left and Tobin shifts onto her other elbow. Alex leans forward a little and Tobin hooks her leg behind Alex’s knee and flips them without really thinking about it.

 

Alex looks up at Tobin, mouth open and eyes wide, and then she smiles and it’s everything. 

 

She kisses a smile into the curve of Alex’s neck, taking her time, testing the limits of whatever they’ve just uncovered. Alex answers by slipping a hand under Tobin’s t-shirt and skating her fingers over the tautness of her lower back, and together they draw a breath and sigh. Bit by bit, moment by moment, Tobin maps out every inch of Alex’s skin she can manage to and Alex does her best to distract from that goal, tugging and pulling until both their shirts are gone and finding all the soft sensitive places Tobin has always tried to hide- her hips, her collarbones, her chest. She does what she can to ignore it but it’s hard when Alex is trying to dismantle her. She’s tempted just to let go.

 

In the end she figures out that the only way to not give in to the black magic Alex is working on her is to take the upper hand. Alex falters slightly when Tobin shifts her weight forward, but she stills completely when Tobin’s hand dives under the waistband of her shorts. From there’s it’s all downhill, or uphill, or..well, it’s something, the way Alex moves, her head pressing back against the floor, her breath stilling in her lungs. 

 

Tobin finds where Alex’s pulse beats a fluttering staccato between her neck and shoulder and covers the spot with her mouth. She follows every pulse, every breath, every moment of tension and release in Alex’s body until they have stolen each others’ breaths again, this time more permanently, and the knowledge of what she’s done thrills her so deeply that she wonders at the simplicity of it all. How easy it is to let Alex tug her up to the bed, to fold in her arms.

 

At some point they remember the comforter lying cold and forgotten on the floor.


	5. five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tobin and Alex start to adjust.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mild M again for this chapter. This is really honestly just shameless fluff filler while I scramble to put down some words, but I figured I'd post it anyway...now that my show is over (finally!!!) I and my co-author will be able to focus a little more on the development of the story. For now, enjoy Tobin and Alex being cute. And sassy. And cute.

Nothing much changes.

They work harder than ever during the day, quietly encouraging each other with shared looks, pats to the back that are only about an inch lower than they might be between anyone else. The sex isn’t life-changing, it’s just routine-changing. After they’ve run themselves into the ground for a day, they come home, breathless but satisfied, and then they spend some time making each other breathless and satisfied.

They still talk plenty, but now the talking dissolves into laughter and the laughter dissolves into kissing. 

The feeling Tobin gets when she kisses Alex is a lot like the feeling she gets after she’s run so long her lungs give out. She’s dizzy, she’s flying, she can’t move and has to move all at once. It’s her new favorite pastime. And the fact that neither of them seems to feel any urge to talk about it makes the whole thing even better. There’s no pressure on either of them to be any certain way. They kiss when they want to kiss, and if they don’t, then they don’t. 

Granted, it’s not often that they don’t. But the idea still stands.

.,.

With the Olympics looming, the tension really /should/ be getting to them. On the field it does sometimes, the shouting, the focus, the competitiveness; off the field they find they are the only people who aren’t losing their minds. Which probably has something to do with the fact that they tend to not talk about it.

They don’t really have to. Alex knows exactly what’s on Tobin’s mind, exactly what she’s thinking: She’s thinking she ways to play. She’s wants to play a lot more than she played in the World Cup. She wants to make a difference. Alex knows because she feels it too, and that alone, that unity, is enough to relax them as soon as they’re alone together. Someone /gets/ it.

.,.

Tobin isn’t sure if what they have counts as a relationship, but she knows it’s not nothing. She’s bad at labels, bad at words (her ‘um’s and ‘awesome’s have gotten her teased before), and if Alex isn’t gonna bring it up then she has no reason to, either. It’s not as if this is some random hookup, after all. They’re best friends; she’d trust Alex with anything, and she’s not at all afraid Alex is gonna up and ditch her. They’s her favorite part, actually- that they really /like/ each other. They can sit together in silence and be fine. They still go out and have a good time, alone and with other people, and nothing’s any different.

Well, some things are.

.,.

They’re lounging in the living room, Tobin sprawled out on the couch, watching SportsCenter with one eye and reading a magazine with the other, and Alex absorbed in her own book. Unlike Tobin she’s not a great multitasker, and she moves a lot when she reads or tries to focus, so she’s been banned to the armchair, where she struggles to make herself comfortable until she’s upside down, legs hooked over the top of the chair.

She’s just getting to a good part when Tobin breaks her concentration.

“Al, it’s your night to do the dishes.”

She groans, dog-earing the page and letting the book fall to the ground a few inches from her head. 

“Do I have to?”  
“Dude, duh. I mowed the lawn.”

Tobin drops the magazine onto her stomach and gives Alex a mirthful look, her eyes bright with suppressed laughter. Alex pouts a little. “The lawn is like twenty square feet, loser,” she says, with mocking accusation, but she feels a smile playing at the edges of her mouth. Tobin grins at her, extending her bare foot to push against Alex’s forehead. “Well, how many square feet is the /sink/, Einstein?”

Alex grabs at Tobin’s foot and presses against the arch where she knows any human in their right mind is ticklish- Tobin laughs and pulls her foot back, drawing her knees to her chest. “Ugh,” Alex is still smiling when she relents, “you know, a lot of people wouldn’t put up with your abuse. And technically nothing horrible is gonna happen if I leave them overnight.”

.,.

Sometimes, Tobin has to admit, she has an idea that she /knows/ is gonna work because it’s just clean-cut genius.

Now is one of those times.

She stands up and moves around behind the armchair so that she can lean against Alex’s legs, reach over, and pull her up by her arms until Alex pushes herself to her feet. Then, without any explanation, she backs Alex into the kitchen with hands on her shoulders, backs her right up to the counter beside the sink, grabs her around the waist and lifts her so she’s perched on it. 

From there things go predictably well. Alex kisses her, a hand on either side of her face, and Tobin goes all out, leaning into the kiss, running her hands up and down Alex’s legs until she feels goosebumps rise at her touch.

Alex makes a soft noise in the back of her throat and Tobin knows, now, that means she’s given up and let her brain stop working for a bit. That’s exactly what Tobin was going for- and, luckily, Alex loses concentration before she does. Tobin waits until she feels Alex tugging at the hem of her shirt before she breaks all contact and takes a step back.

If looks could kill, the look she gets for that would do the trick. She’s never teased Alex before, and she kind of likes it- likes having a little power. Just because. “Do the dishes,” she says, unable to keep the smirk off her face, “You know where I’ll be.”

.,.

For a while Alex sits there and wallows.

She ahtes a little bit that Tobin has such power over her but at the same time she kind of likes it- a lot, actually, maybe a lot more than she hates it. Teasting, cocky Tobin is twice as hot as normal Tobin, and Alex almost wants to make her pay for teasing but she also knows that she needs to do the dishes first, so she heaves a sigh, presses her thighs together and slides off the counter, trying to ignore the lingering ache between her legs.

“This is so unfair,” she mutters to herself- and then, as she starts to run the tap, she realizes that her best revenge is a lot subtler than she originally intended.

She takes her time. Scrubs both plates, the skillet, and bowls, rinses them and does it all again. She cleans the sink. She waits, a smirk on her face, and idly towel-dries everything she’s washed, knowing that Tobin’s curiousity will get the better of her in the end.

.,.

The whole point was that Alex would get frustrated and hurry the dishes, but after about fifteen minutes Tobin starts to realize that’s not what has happened. Alex is taking /forever/. 

She fights it for a while but eventually she gives up and rolls out of bed, heading back to the kitchen. Alex glances over her shoulder and smiles when she notices, but says nothing. Tobin frowns, crossing her arms.

“What are you /doing/?”

Alex puts down the plate in her hands and turns to face Tobin. The look on her face- smug and full of supprressed laughter- almost breaks Tobin’s concenration, but she keeps her cool as Alex crosses her arms, matching her stance. 

“Exactly what I’m supposed to- washing the dishes.”

Tobin takes a step closer, flushing slightly, but doesn’t break eye contact when she says it:

“Yeah, well, your hands would be more useful somewhere else.”

It’s the boldest, bravest thing she’s ever said, probably, as weird as that is. She’s not used to being forward about this kind of thing and this is the most directly either of them has addressed the whole friends-that-also-have-great-sex thing and she’s very aware that this could totally backfire.

When Alex’s eyebrows shoot up Tobin has to fight the urge to backpedal. She’s ready for Alex to shut her out or something, but instead she takes one step closer, close enough that they’re almost front to front, and asks, “Where?” like she doesn’t know.

Tobin can’t even answer. Their whole exchange has flooded her with adrenaline.  
She reaches out and gently grabs Alex’s wrist (the staccatto of Alex’s pulse mirrors her own and for a moment their hearts throb together) and slides it past the waistband of her shorts.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The friendly against Sweden in Arizona uncovers a lot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took forever to get up and I'm so sorry!

Alex doesn’t realize how different they both are until the official training camp starts.  
  
It’s November, early enough that it’s exactly the perfect temperature in Arizona. The flight is short (for them, though she has to admit she feels bad for Christie and Carli and everyone else that’s flown in from the northeast), they’re both well rested, and Alex loses herself in the swarm of welcoming and familiar bodies until she’s said hi to everyone twice and they’ve all started to move out to where the bus and Pia will be waiting.  
  
When she looks to her left, Tobin’s not there. In fact, it takes her almost a full thirty seconds to even find Tobin, sandwiched between Amy and Lauren. It doesn’t strike her for another thirty seconds that what she feels- jealousy- is completely weird. Tobin’s not hers by any stretch of the imagination. Yeah, they live together. And make out a lot. And sometimes do more than make out. But the thing is, when it comes down to it, they’re just roommates, and Tobin has two best friends she hasn’t seen in probably months, and Alex is alone now and has no idea what to do with herself without Tobin there to turn to. She feels pathetic for admitting it to herself and stupid for not noticing it before.  
  
She’s not alone for too long. Someone jumps on her from behind and she laughs even before she knows who it is, caught by surprise, and then laughs harder when Sydney hops off her back and bumps against her shoulder. “Dude, you were about to drop me,” the other girl says, “ you should probably work out.” Alex falls into the routine like it’s second nature, and she’s starting to remember that it is.  
  
“Dude,” she replies, mocking Syd’s tone perfectly, “I’m already wearing a backpack.”  
  
It’s all the distraction she needs.  
  
.,.  
  
It’s not that easy for Tobin.  
  
She’s missed Amy and Lauren, but there’s something so different now, something about their chemistry that’s just that little bit off. Tobin wonders if either of the others can feel it; if they wonder what it is. She wishes she didn’t know. She’s carrying a secret, now, but that’s never been something she’s very good at, and up until now, at least with Lauren and Amy, she’s never had any reason to do. She’s afraid she’ll let it slip- and a little confused as to why she needs to keep it a secret. Ashlyn and Ali certainly don’t bother hiding much from the team- they’ve never made any kind of huge announcement, but they don’t sneak around. Is that what she wants? Does she want everyone to know that her and Alex are together?  
  
Are they together?  
  
“Man, I missed you guys so much,” she says, refusing to dwell and slipping into the seat next to Cheney. “Aw,” Amy takes the seat in front of them, “Toby, how cute.”  
  
“Don’t call me that,” but she’s laughing and light, because she can always count on them to catch and harp on her for her sappiness. That much is still the same. Cheney pulls the hood of Tobin’s sweatshirt over her eyes, tugs the strings tight and ties a bow out of them, so that the only part of Tobin’s face left uncovered is her mouth.  
  
“You’re a Cali girl now,” Lauren says, over their laughter, “you need an alternative name.”  
  
“I’m the same person.”  
  
She says it without really thinking about it but once it’s out of her mouth she realizes how serious she’d been- how serious she sounded, how quickly the laughter has stopped. She unties the knot and replaces the hood of her jacket, but she doesn’t make eye contact because she doesn’t want them to know how much she needed that to be true. How much she still needed to just be Tobin with them. She needs a moment to not be so lost. Hadn’t things been easy back home? Home, where Alex was? She had known herself then but now she’s not sure anymore.  
“We know that,” Amy says, then, softly, like she gets it, but Tobin’s not sure she wants her to. Lauren echoes: “We know.”  
  
.,.  
  
“Phoenix is hot,” Sydney mutters, heaving her duffle over her shoulder. Alex can’t help but laugh at her, and she hears Kelley laughing behind her, too, as she catches up. “It’s not the air,” the defender jokes, pulling up beside them, “It’s me. I can leave.”  
  
Sydney groans.  
  
“You are not old enough, married enough, or frumpy enough to use that line.”  
“You have much to learn, young grasshopper.”  
“Whatever.”  
  
When they’re done play-shoving each other and Alex has wedged herself between them, following them into the hotel, the conversation restarts in a direction that catches Alex off-guard.   
  
“So,” Kelley leaps ahead of them, walking backwards so that she’s face-to-face with Alex, “What’s Tobin like, as a roommate?” Sydney perks up just as Kelley narrowly avoids backing into Christie, and Alex is so distracted she can’t answer before Sydney adds her own question on the tail end of Kelley’s: “Yeah, does she even talk?”  
  
Alex frowns.  
  
“Of course she talks,” she replies, maybe a little bit too defensively. “You’ve heard her talk, she talks plenty.”  
  
“You know what she means,” Kelley says with a conspiratory air- but Alex really doesn’t, because her first instinct is that they suspect her and Tobin’s ‘thing’, so she panicks internally until Kelley finishes her sentence. “Does she talk, talk? About stuff other than soccer and church?”  
  
She shouldn’t be offended. They’re not really even making fun of Tobin, they’re just being curious, just kidding around, but Alex feels herself tense up and knows that they see it. She needs to relax. She’s going to give them away if she doesn’t relax.  
  
“Yes,” is what she says, forcing herself to make some kind of joke, “she talks about surfing, too.” Which is true. Kelley and Sydney both laugh and Alex knows she’s off the hook, but she feels slimy and wrong. She feels like she just gossipped about her best friend. She feels like she just made a joke at the expense of her best friend.   
Well- her best friend that she also sleeps with and lives with and plays with, but she can’t think about the technicalities. When they had been alone together labels had seemed stupid. Now, with Tobin on the other side of the hotel lobby, it’s like Alex needs something to tether them together.  
  
.,.  
  
The rooming assignments are just being called out when Tobin makes eye contact with Alex for the first time since they stepped off their flight.   
  
She smiles and Alex smiles back and for a moment everything is right again. She wonders if they’ll get to room together, and if it would be different here than it is back home. She doesn’t have too long to really think about it, though, because the rooming assignments are being called and Alex looks away.  
  
HAO and Broon. Bue and Carli. Tobin waits to hear her name or Alex’s, rolling the tension out of her shoulders.   
  
Alex and Pinoe. Tobin and Barnie.  
  
She likes Barnie, always has; they’re both on the quiet side and she never feels like anything’s expected of her when they’ve hung out together in the past. In fact, if she’s being honest, she’s relieved she didn’t get paired with Lauren or Amy. She doesn’t want them to feel any weirder than they probably already do, and if there’s one person on this team that won’t be bothered by her having an existential crisis, it’s her roommate.  
  
Alex catches her arm in the hallway as she’s heading to the room and Barnie just nods are her and disappears around the corner (if it were anyone else Tobin would be worried they’d given something away). They shuffle into an alcove lined with vending machines, drop their bags, and hold each other for a moment like it’s the most normal thing in the world.  
  
Tobin presses her nose into Alex’s neck and tries to memorize the moment, the hum of the machines and the warmth of Alex that she can feel even through a few layers of clothes.   
  
“You okay?”  
“Yeah. You?”  
  
Tobin feels Alex’s sigh like it’s her own.  
  
“Yeah. I just miss you.”

  
Tobin peeks around the corner to be sure there’s nobody lurking around, then sneaks a kiss. “I’m right here,” she says, pulling back just enough to see the look on Alex’s face. She knows she’s going to dream of that look tonight- that fleeting something, she’s not sure what, that makes her feel like her insides are burning, like alcohol, not that she’s ever had enough to really say for sure. She’s starting to think she hasn’t had enough of Alex to really say for sure, either.  
  
.,.  
  
Time passes like that for a while, with kisses snuck in quiet places and stolen moments between practices. It’s just a friendly, but they all know they need to prove themselves. They all know that their performance in this game will determine the way people are talking about them as they go into the qualifiers.  
  
The day of the game is the first time Megan mentions Tobin. It’s in passing and it’s nothing like Sydney and Kelley’s harmless joking, but she still feels herself constricting.  
  
“How’s Tobin liking California?”  
  
Alex stuffs her warmups into her duffel and clears her throat. “I think she likes it a lot. She seems like she does, anyway.” Megan nods absently and Alex wonders if she’s a better actress than she feels like she is. “Tobs always seemed like more of a West coast girl than a Brooklynite to me. That’s probably the surfing, though.”  
  
“Yeah,” Alex nods, but now she’s not so sure. “I’m sure she misses, like, her family and stuff, but you’d never know unless you asked.”  
  
That’s it. She should have thought to ask and she never has. Tobin’s life isn’t about her, and her life isn’t about Tobin, and the past couple of weeks have made her forget that. She’s been a bad friend, or girlfriend, or...whatever she is, she’s been doing it badly and she has the sudden urge to apologize.  
  
It itches at her in the locker room as they all start to change, the mindless chatter and Lauren’s iHome keeping her from being able to get Tobin’s attention. It’s not until they’re suited up that she manages to get her hand around Tobin’s wrist. Everyone’s starting to leave and she feels the panic rise in her throat- she won’t be able to play well tonight if she doesn’t get this out, she knows it.  
  
Tobin gives her a confused look, her brows furrowed.  
  
“Tobin-”  
“We gotta go-”  
“Tobin, just- I’m sorry, okay?”  
  
Abby’s voice, from outside, she’s not happy but Alex can’t find it in her to care yet, “Ladies! Let’s go!”  
  
“What?”  
“I’m sorry. Let’s go.”  
  
.,.  
  
 _I’m sorry_.  
  
In Tobin’s experience those two words mean one thing in that context. She can’t see any other possible explanation other than that she is now homeless (and single, if she wasn’t before, which she’s still not sure of).  
  
This begs the question: who is she without Alex Morgan?  
  
She doesn’t know.  
  
She doesn’t _know_.  
  
.,.  
  
They get close a few times early in the game, Carli specifically, but the Swedish team is tough and fast and technical, and twenty minutes in they’re all already exhausted.  
  
Looking at Tobin, you wouldn’t know. She’s playing like she’s on fire and Alex is riveted whenever she has the time to notice.   
  
It’s early when Sweden scores, and they score on a deflection, a cross to the right that Barnie comes within two inches of saving. There’s a collective letting out of frustrated air that comes when the ball hits the upper right of the net. Nobody looks as disappointed as Barnie does, though- even Alex can tell and she’s the furthest from the goal.   
  
Cheney sends in a corner that is almost a header goal but isn’t quite. The frustration of try after try that doesn’t quite make it is taking it’s toll; push after push up the left side amounts to nothing, over and over. Sweden comes close to scoring again and none of them are ready to chalk the miss up to more than luck. The first half passes like that, tense, and the halftime pep talk is so long-winded that Alex can’t find any time to do anything but grab a drink and head back out.  
  
.,.  
  
The second half is much the same. Frustration, missed chances, and Tobin watches Alex throw herself into the game like nothing’s wrong. For a moment it looks as if she’s even going to score, coming in off the left, but when the ball hits the post Tobin feels herself start to ache.  
  
 _Who am I without her?_  
  
They’re sprinting upfield together, almost in step. Alex looks up and catches Tobin’s gaze and the world stops turning for a fraction of a second.   
  
She doesn’t know.  
  
Alex shoots. Tobin feels herself veer to the right on instinct; the goalie is right on it and it’s not going to go in. She slips in at the last second, breathing hard, heart in her throat, the ball bounces just out of the goalie’s reach and Tobin draws back and finishes what Alex started.  
  
1-1.  
  
This is who she is. _This_ is who she is.   
  
She runs to Cheney first but she doesn’t resist Alex’s hug, either, even though part of her wants to. She tucks herself under Alex’s chin like she’s done countless times before and lets herself have a moment before she hears ‘I’m sorry’ again in her head and remembers.  
  
.,.  
  
About ten minutes after the game ends, Alex realizes that Tobin is avoiding her. Actively avoiding being within a few feet of her. She backs off, confused, and then she gets it and wants to bang her head against the shower wall for a few hours.  
  
Instead she showers as quickly as possible, finds Tobin’s open duffel, and stands by it as nonchalantly as possible. (There are other girls who wait for their friends. She doesn’t look _that_ suspicious. )  
  
Tobin appears, beanie pulled low over her ears and still-damp hair, and Alex clears her throat. Everyone else files out, little by little, and nobody’s listening to them closely but she still feels like they need total privacy to have this kind of conversation. That being said, she’ll take whatever she can get right now, and considering that Tobin has avoided her for the past hour or so she’s pretty sure “I need to talk to you” wouldn’t go over great. She can see Tobin’s surprise, can see her look around before she answers and decide to humor her, skeptically.   
  
“Hey.”  
“You played really great tonight.”  
“Thanks. So did you. It was awesome.”  
“Totally.”  
  
It’s like they’ve just met and Tobin’s making polite conversation. In fact, that’s _exactly_ what she’s doing, Alex can tell because she’s packing while she speaks and she never multitasks.  
  
“Tobin, I...”  
“...am sorry. Yeah, you said that.”  
“I wasn’t saying what you think I was saying.”  
  
Tobin doesn’t answer. Alex just wants to haul her to her feet and kiss her until she understands.   
  
“I was apologizing for not...being better to you. I should have been paying more attention. I should have, like...asked about if you were homesick or if you even liked California at all,” it’s coming out in a rush and she’s sure someone’s going to hear her no matter how low she keeps her voice, “and I didn’t. It didn’t even occur to me.”  
  
Alex closes her eyes for a second because she’s not sure she wants to see Tobin’s reaction to that. In fact, she wants to disappear until she stops being embarrassed at her awful communications skills or until she figures out some kind of label for them. Whichever comes first.  
  
“Alex.”  
  
She jumps at her name and her eyes fly open. Tobin’s standing, now, bag slung over her shoulder, and Alex swears she can see just the barest hint of a smile working at the corner of her mouth.  
  
“I’m only homesick when I’m away from you.”


	7. Chapter 7

It's dark.   
  
Tobin hears Heather shift in her sleep in the other bed, hers a stretch, the pop of a ligament and a sigh before her breathing evens out again.  
  
It's January now and it's been actual weeks since she was alone alone with Alex for more than an hour at a time. Now especially, with the first match looming, she misses the comfort of sharing a bed. It's not that she's nervous about tomorrow- the Dominican Republic team is young and new and nobody's expecting them to put up much of a fight- but London just seems so far. She saw it once, months ago, in Alex's eyes. She wants to see it again, so badly that it's keeping her awake.   
  
Her phone buzzes.   
  
She's bad at keeping it on her so there's a scramble to find it, tucked under her bag.   
.,.

  
ALEX   
iMESSAGE  
  
i can't sleep.

.,.

  
TOBIN  
iMESSAGE  
  
me either. nervous??  
.,.

  
ALEX  
iMESSAGE  
  
not really. i just miss you i guess. and abby snores.   
.,.  
  
It only occurs to her halfway down the hall that she should have put shoes on.  
  
She remembered a coat (it's _cold_ in Canada, even for January) but in her rush she forgot to put something on her feet. She stops outside Alex's room and pauses, rocking back on her heels. Abby does snore, intermittently, but Tobin finds herself listening for Alex's breathing instead as she takes out her phone and taps out a reply.   
  
.,.

  
TOBIN  
iMESSAGE  
  
boom. grab a sweatshirt and open your door  
.,.  
  
The relief of seeing Tobin is instantaneous and Alex can feel the tension drain from her shoulders as she closes the door behind her.   
  
"I feel like we're sneaking out," she says, pulling her hoodie over her head.  
  
"We are sneaking out. I'm kidnapping you. Don't tell your mom. Or Mombach."  
  
They're still laughing under their breaths by the time they reach the elevator, standing and walking so close that they bump together with each step.   
  
"I don't think it counts as kidnapping if I want you to do it," Alex teases, tugging at the strand of hair that Tobin is perpetually tucking behind her right ear. "Where are we going?"  
  
It's clear immediately that Tobin hasn't thought that through, because she pulls a face. The elevator dings and they shuffle inside, and that's when Alex notices that Tobin is barefoot.   
  
She feels like she's about to explode from the inside out. There's a feeling in her chest like its expanding and she's too warm and she curls her toes in her sneakers and grins and wonders how it is that everything Tobin does is endearing and cute.   
  
"I dunno. I guess I just wanted to see you. You said you missed me, so..." Tobin flicks the lobby button with one finger and shrugs. "I had to fix it. Not like either of us was sleeping."  
  
"Not even close," Alex agrees. But they are. They're close enough that Tobin has to tilt her head back to look Alex in the eyes, but both too aware of where they are to do anything but smile stupidly at each other until they hit the ground floor and the ding forces them apart.   
  
She feels even more adolescent when they leave the lobby, Tobin’s bare feet sticking to the tile and the receptionist behind the counter looking up at them through smudged glasses.   
  
  
Once they’re outside in the cold Alex hops onto one foot and tugs her left sneaker off, which slows her down enough that Tobin has to turn to see what the wait is.  
  
.,.

  
“What are you _doing_?”  
  
“You forgot shoes.”  
  
“You don’t know that. Maybe I did it on purpose.”  
  
Alex laughs and chucks the tennis shoe at her, and she thinks there might not be anything else in the world that lives up to that sound. Not even the sound of a ball hitting the back of the net.  
  
“I wouldn’t put it past you. Put it on.”  
“I’m not taking your shoes.”  
“Nope. Just one.”  
  
She slips the shoe on just because she’s pretty sure Alex won’t walk with her unless she does. When they round the block their hands meet, reaching for each other at the same time, and their fingers entangle like they do this regularly.   
  
Holding hands is a couple-y thing and it should feel weird to her, she _knows_ that. Whatever they are, it’s not a couple. They don’t go on dates. They don’t refer to each other as anything other than their names. So what is it about Alex that makes Tobin reach for her hand? What is it about being with her that makes everything else so irrelevant?   
  
.,.  
  
“So are we like...friends with benefits, or what?”  
  
Alex blurts it without thinking and immediately feels herself blush. She wants to take her hand back but she doesn’t want Tobin to get any idea that she doesn’t want whatever they have.  
  
The reaction she gets is miles different than what she expected. Tobin lets out a breath and says, “You were thinking about it too.” It’s not a question. Actually, it sounds like a statement of relief, and that makes Alex stop in her tracks.   
  
“I don’t think there’s a word for it,” she says, honestly. Tobin tilts her head, remaining silent but squeezing Alex’s fingers as if to encourage her to continue. “I mean, we’re... we’re friends. And...we’re roommates. And teammates. But we also...we’re also...”  
  
“Will you be my girlfriend?”  
  
.,.  
  
She feels herself blushing the second it’s out of her mouth. Alex stops mid-sentence, her mouth open slightly, her eyes wide. Tobin repeats it again before she loses her nerve, feeling her hands start to sweat. “I- will you be my girlfriend? Officially?  
  
“Officially? Like...out?”  
“No- I mean unless, if that’s what you want-”  
“I want...I think that’s a little too fast.”  
“Oh.”  
  
 _Oh_.   
  
Tobin breathes through her nose and starts to let go of Alex’s hand, but Alex clutches her fingers tighter and pulls her in close so that they’re front to front.   
  
“Being out. I think it’s too early for that. But I want this.”  
“This?”  
  
She looks down at their hands, clasped between them. At the shoe on her left foot and the one on Alex’s right. She’s just lifting her eyes to Alex’s when the taller girl dips her head and presses their lips together.  
  
“It’s a yes.”  
  
.,.  
  
A minute into the game Heather crosses to Abby who pops a header in and puts them on the board.  
  
Three minutes later it’s Carli. Then Bue, then Heather, who is playing like a woman possessed, and Tobin can’t contain her own energy.  
  
.,.  
  
Alex can’t keep her eyes off of Tobin whenever she has the ball.  
  
She’s on fire, practically, feet moving faster than any of the Dominican players can keep up with- faster than she could keep up with, if she’s being honest. It’s not a surprise to her when Tobin finally scores, but she leaps off the bench to cheer anyway.  
  
She can see the smile from here and it makes her goosebump.  
Two minutes later Heather scores another- overdue, for her, but overkill for them. Alex is restless, aching to be out on the field even knowing they have a comfortable lead. She’s so distracted that when it happens she notices late- she notices when Heather murmurs something next to her and her eyes follow to where a player is down.  
  
A player. Ali.  
  
.,.  
  
They’re somber.  
  
It’s not like anything was done on purpose and they know Ali wouldn’t want them to be angry about it, but they are. Shaken up and angry and confused. Not angry at the player that got caught in whatever made this happen, but angry that one of them is gone, that one of them is hurt. They all feel it.  
  
Nobody says anything about it.  
  
.,.  
  
She enters the field at the same minute Tobin leaves it. They pass on the field, briefly, and the soft tap of Tobin’s hand against her hip calms her enough to get her head in the right space. She rolls her shoulders and takes the field at a jog, resolving to make a difference- even a small one. That’s what she’s here for. And it’s a time like this that reminds her of it.  
  
Amy is in the game for a minute before she scores and Alex feels the atmosphere shift.  
  
She scores again three minutes later. And again eight after that.   
  
By the time the game is through they’ve scored 14 times. It still feels like a draw when they leave the field. It still feels like they’re missing something- and Alex doesn’t feel whole again until Tobin bumps into her from behind and takes a half a second to squeeze her hand.  
  
.,.  
  
  
The morale improves a little over the next two days. Ali’s okay- going to be, anyway. It’s bad. They all knew it would be. Krieger isn’t the kind of player to go down like that unless it is bad, but even through this her support is infallible.  
  
Now more than ever they are determined to get to London. Now more than ever they are determined to sweep this tournament.  
  
Neither of them starts in the game against Guatemala. It’s another team they’re not worried about, collectively, and after starting Abby to give them a lead it seems like they’re both going to be benched for a while.  
  
Alex doesn’t mind the bench when Tobin’s there. She’s always been comfortable sitting the bench next to Tobin, even before the change in their relationship, but especially with the separation factor it’s nice to be able to do this again, to press her knee against Tobin’s and watch their team take the Guatemalans by storm.  
  
She’s not expecting it when Pia shifts down the bench to find her, but as always she feels a rush of adrenaline as she prepares for the field, joining Shannon and Sydney at the sideline and leaving the comfort of Tobin’s closeness behind.  
  
.,.  
  
They’re already six up when Alex and Sydney take the field, but Tobin can tell immediately that the two of them are going to make an impact. Part of that is her expectation that Alex will score- because Alex always makes a difference on the field and is an immediate threat to the other team, whether or not they realize it yet- and part of it is just the energy she can see on the refreshed field. She just knows.   
  
And for once she doesn’t really mind not being on the field, she just lets herself enjoy watching the game. Watching her team. Watching her girlfriend.   
  
Sydney scores three goals in ten minutes and another quickly following. Megan scores in the 75th and the bench is exploding with energy, Cheney- who had easily filled the space Alex left behind- is shouting so loudly she’s going hoarse.   
  
Alex keeps inching closer and closer to the goal and Tobin can feel it in her bones that she’s going to score before the game is through. There’s a determination in her posture and a spring to her run that’s just that little bit more than it usually is- so subtle that Tobin doesn’t know if anybody else can see it but her.   
  
They all see it when Alex scores, though, and Cheney whistles under her breath: “She’s relentless,” and Tobin wouldn’t be able to keep the pride off of her face if she tried.  
  
.,.  
  
Mexico is tougher and neither of them enter the game at all.  
  
They’re both  a little antsy on the bench, especially by half when they’re only up by 2- after two games of leading at least six to nothing by the time the whistle blew, it’s unsettling, and Alex knows better than anyone that after two games Tobin is itching to get back on the field.  
  
It’s no surprise, though, that Sydney goes in for the second half- not after her performance against Guatemala. Tobin blows into her hands to warm them and leans into Alex just a little to speak: “You should be out there, too,” she says, and Alex dares to turn her head, knowing that there’s only a few inches between them. “We’ll get our chance. Both of us.”  
  
She doesn’t know _why_ she knows it’s true but she does and she's not going to question her instincts. She never has- she doesn’t question the instincts she has on the ball, and she doesn’t question her instincts around Tobin- and she can tell by the way Tobin tilts her head and turns her attention back to the field that she feels it, too.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They're not as good at being secretive as they think they are.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ugh sorry this took forever you guys- I've been dying of a cough or cold or something and this chapter changed trajectories a bunch of times. There's a big moment in here for Tobin that I wasn't sure if I was gonna do or not, and I went through a few drafts of different scenarios before I chose the one I liked.

Alex is right again.  
  
Costa Rica is bearing down on them and they’ve shuffled roommates to ‘keep things fresh’, in Dawn’s words, leaving Tobin sequestered with Christie and Alex and Sydney next door. It becomes imperative that she act as normal as possible about everything- Christie is way too perceptive for something to slip by her, but at the same time Tobin can’t help but feel like acting ‘normal’ is going to hurt Alex.  
  
Because they’re not just friends.  
And pretending that they are is lying.  
And Tobin doesn’t lie.  
  
It’s kind of stupid the way they find comfort in each other even when they’re apart (or ‘apart’, considering they play together, eat together, and sleep with a wall between them). Periodically, Tobin will find something of hers missing- a shirt, a pair of shorts, a sweatshirt- and she knows exactly where it’s gone. More than likely nobody notices but her when Alex is wearing a different sweatshirt to dinner, but she notices. She knows the feel of the fabric and the feel of Alex’s skin and she manages to get her alone for a few seconds in the bathroom to remind herself, pulling Alex close and burying her face in Alex’s neck and digging her fingers into her own sweatshirt, bunched at Alex’s hips.  
  
As a ransom she demands one of Alex’s sweatshirts- the one with the least pink on it, a kind of gray Underarmor hoodie that she doesn’t even wear, just keeps in her bag. And maybe occasionally takes it out when Christie’s in the shower or something just because it does smell like Alex (and she knows that’s stupid but she passed the level of ‘stupidly’ in love with Alex a while back so she gets over it). Only, the problem is that she forgets to give it back, and then it’s Thursday night and Alex pokes her head in to remind her.  
  
Christie’s folding something- Tobin’s not really paying attention because she’s been reading, but when she looks up and Alex is there she panics and remembers she has to be normal so she goes back to her book instead of getting up or saying anything.  
  
“Hey Alex,” Christie says, and Tobin can see her glance over her shoulder because not acknowledging Alex is kind of weird on its own.  
  
“Uh, hey.” Alex is clearly confused and Tobin sincerely hopes she’s making up the hurt in the tone of her voice when she says, “Tobin, you...still have my sweatshirt and I kinda need it, can I have it back?”  
  
She scrambles to get it, losing the page of her book which falls to the floor along with her empty water bottle. When she hands Alex the sweatshirt she can’t even make eye contact, she just clears her throat and flops back onto the bed, grabbing for her lost book. Alex pauses a moment before she closes the door and Tobin buries her blushing face into pages she’s already read, hoping against hope that Christie will just go back to her laundry.  
  
.,.  
  
(Christie gets it the second Tobin ignores Alex’s appearance. The lack of eye contact and awkward blushing afterwards is just a bonus. She goes back to her laundry, hiding a smile, and says nothing about it.)  
  
.,.  
  
Alex doesn’t really know what to do with herself, but she doesn’t have too long to worry about it. Just long enough that she’s still sitting cross-legged on her bed, clutching her sweatshirt, when someone knocks on her and Syd’s door.  
  
She opens it without checking and feels stupid the second she does- Tobin’s standing there and she’d be lying if she said she was ready to face her after what she considers to be the most awkward encounter of her life.  
  
“Where’s Sydney?”  
“Shower. I’ll tell her you called.”  
She starts to close the door but Tobin stops it and Alex, refusing to make eye contact, fixes her eyes on Tobin’s hand where it keeps the edge of the door from going any further. “I’m sorry. I was- that was awkward and it was my fault.”  
  
She sighs and lets go of the door so that Tobin can, too, then retreats back to her bed.  
  
“Yeah. Kinda.”  
“No, I mean, it was totally my bad. I was nervous cause-”  
“There was someone else there, I get it. I just didn’t realize it was going to be weird for you or anything.”  
  
Tobin taps her thumb against the fingers of her other hand.  
  
“It’s not weird for me. I just didn’t want to be super obvious or anything.”  
  
Alex looks up, then, but Tobin's fingering the hem of her shirt like she's afraid to make eye contact. To force her Alex grabs her hands, knowing they're safe as long as the shower's running, and she doesn't speak until Tobin looks her in the eye again: "You can still be my friend, you know."  
  
Tobin's eyes dip to Alex's lips, sending a wave of adrenaline right through her, but she's not too distracted to hear the reply- "I know."  
  
.,.  
  
Costa Rica starts with a yellow card and from then on out everything is hectic, sharp edges and barely contained energy.  
  
Alex has never been so captivated in her life as she is sitting through the first hour of that game, and it’s not the team that holds her attention. It’s Tobin.  
  
Part of it is that she misses Tobin a lot- especially after last night- but part of it is also just the way she’s playing. Alex can’t help but follow the lines of Tobin’s body- an arm outstretched, her hip swivels and her leg extends, her whole body flexing and shifting with effort and the ball arcing away from her.  
  
She has never thought of the game as beautiful before. She’s heard others refer to it that way- Abby, Megan, even Pia- but she’s never understood it until now. The game _is_ beautiful. She gets lost watching feet and legs and when Lauren pops a corner kick into the air in Tobin’s direction she’s off the bench before Tobin’s head even hits the ball.  
  
The celebration is an uproar but Alex still sees Tobin turn- towards the crowd, toward the bench, looking for her, and when their eyes meet there’s a moment where Alex swears she can read Tobin’s mind.  
  
 _Sorry about last night._  
  
And it’s more than okay.  
  
.,.  
  
Tobin runs herself ragged through the first half, but it’s worth it when she trots onto the sideline at halftime and Alex jumps on her from behind.  
  
Even as tired as she already is she laughs and grabs Alex’s knees, just in time for Alex to lean in and whisper into her ear: “I could kiss you. Right here, right now.”  
  
“It wasn’t _that_ impressive,” she replies, but she gets a weird little thrill thinking about it. Alex is joking, probably, but Tobin kind of wishes she wasn’t. It was Alex who had decided it was too early to be out, but Tobin had agreed without really thinking about it. Now she’s not so sure- not sure anyone would really be surprised, and not sure it would matter to her either way.  
  
She’s in for about fifteen minutes of the second half before a whistle blows and she looks up to see her number on the sub board. She’s surprised at the number next to it, though, and doesn’t really have time to think about it before she meets Alex at the sideline. She hugs back, but it feels weird to let go so quickly.  
  
.,.  
  
Carli scores straight up the middle, reminding Alex why she’s so full of it- she is every inch the player she says she is, and putting them at 2-0 is a moment of relief for everyone on the field. Still, Alex is aching to make some kind of a difference. She tries to remember some of the things she saw Tobin do- tries to will her feet into being faster, but she knows where her strength is and ends up using her stride again to gain advantages where she can.  
  
And what an advantage it is.  
  
She races down the left side of the field and the back of her throat tastes like copper and she can hear the roar everywhere- the crowd or her blood, she isn’t sure and it doesn’t matter. There are two defenders on her but they’re in each other’s space so she runs them to the edge of the field, and then, with the outside of her foot, pops the ball right past them.  
  
It’s a gamble, but she knows she’s fast enough to get around the other side of them before they can catch her up, and she’s right- they’re clipping at her heels but when she shoots they’re too late to stop her. It’s off her right foot and hits the back of the net with relatively little speed, but she’s a train without breaks until Abby’s solid form stops her short.  
  
When she can breathe again and tell which hands belong to who, she cranes her neck to look for Tobin.  
  
And she blows a kiss.  
  
.,.  
  
They switch roommates again for the final, and Tobin can’t help but be glad for it because if anyone’s going to guess what’s going on it’s Pearcie. This time they have to pick names out of a hat, and Alex goes first because she was the last to score. She pulls Becky, Megan pulls Sydney, and Tobin gets nudged up to the front.  
  
 _Hope - room 212._  
  
It’s been a while since she’s spent any time with Hope, but she’s never really been intimidated the way so many others seem to be- she’s always liked Hope’s frank nature and is immediately reminded of that when Hope leads her to the room and says, “Second floor has its own ice closet, if you wanna do your shins,” and hands over the bucket like she knows automatically that Tobin feels like her calf muscles are pulling away from the bone.  
  
“Thanks.”  
  
.,.  
  
Alex overhears something that night that she almost can’t comprehend but manages to understand enough of to throw her into some kind of frenzy. The hotel bar isn’t awful, and because they have a day in between the two matches a few of the veterans are nursing watered-down drinks. Alex is about to join them when she hears her name and freezes, obscured by the corner she was about to round.  
  
"Becky and Alex, Megan and Amy...it’s awkward, you know? I feel like the only way rooming is more awkward than picking names out of a hat is when people have to choose their own." It's Abby that's speaking, and Mittsy that speaks next: “Well, there’s a reason we don’t do _that_ anymore.”  
  
They’re laughing then- three of them, as far as Alex can tell, because she recognizes Hope’s laugh-  and she thinks about moving before she hears what Hope has to say.  
  
“I don’t think it’s that awkward, actually. I _like_ Tobin.”  
  
Alex grins but it doesn’t last long because Abby’s next sentence totally floors her: “Hope, she’s not gonna sleep with you.”  
  
Mittsy laughs. Hope’s reply is rapidfire: “You would know a lot about not sleeping with me, wouldn’t you, Wambach?”  
  
"That brings up an interesting point, actually," Alex hears Mittsy say through her confusion, "has anyone ever seen her with a guy? Or heard her _talk_ about a guy?"  
  
"It's none of our business," Abby says, echoing Alex's thoughts. Then, after a pause, "but no."  
  
.,.  
  
Tobin has has just gotten out of the shower when someone knocks on her door and she jumps a little, startled. Hope's only been gone maybe twenty minutes and unless she somehow dropped or lost her key there'd be no reason for her to knock at all, and Tobin's certainly not expecting anyone when she goes to open the door.  
  
"Tobin," Alex says, out of breath, and Tobin turns to collapse on her back on the bed, dropping the towel from her hair. "What'd you do, run the staircase instead of waiting for an elevator?" It's a joke but Alex doesn't even crack a smile. For a heartbeat Tobin wonders what she's done wrong this round before Alex takes a few steps forward- from there Tobin stops thinking entirely.  
  
Alex kneels on the mattress, one knee on either side of Tobin's hips, and leans down to kiss her without a word. It’s not like she really needs an excuse and it’s certainly not like Tobin’s going to stop her to ask for one, so instead she reaches up to touch Alex’s jaw- to keep her close.  
  
That doesn’t go over well. Alex grabs her wrist, knots their fingers together, and presses their joined hands back into the mattress. This is a little strange for them, a little backwards, given that Alex is usually in Tobin’s position, and she’s not going to pretend she’s completely comfortable but she’s enjoying the pressure, the taste of Alex’s lips and the insistence of her kiss.  
  
.,.

  
It’s all fun and games until her lips leave Tobin’s.  
  
Swirling in her head are images of someone else’s hands on Tobin’s waist, her back, her stomach- anyone else, not necessarily Hope’s, it’s the _idea_ that Tobin could ever be with or belong to anyone else. It’s that idea that brings her lips to Tobin’s pulse point, then to her shoulder, exposed by her tank top. It’s that idea that makes her bear down, squeezing Tobin’s fingers, and get to work leaving her mark.  
  
Tobin outright gasps- she’s usually quiet, but Alex has clearly caught her off guard- and clutches at the back of Alex’s neck with her free hand. “Alex- Alex, people are gonna see,” Tobin manages, but she’s breathless and Alex is enjoying it too much to pull back right away. When she does, bringing her lips back up to Tobin’s ear, she feels a little bit better.  
  
“So let them see.”  
  
Tobin grabs at Alex’s shoulder, shifting her hips upward just enough to show that despite her protests she’s definitely still into it, but that doesn’t stop her from speaking again:  
  
“How long do you think we have until Hope gets back?”  
  
.,.  
  
" _Shit_."  
  
The comforting weight of Alex's torso is gone before Tobin can think to reach for her. In the same amount of time- a heartbeat, maybe- she's bolted from the room, leaving Tobin alone and  stupefied. After a moment she shifts, sighs, and starts to fix her clothes, crooked from Alex's onslaught.  
  
She's barely sat up for thirty seconds before she hears Hope's key in the door and she doesn't even have time to panic before she's in.  
  
"Hey," she croaks, sitting up against her headboard as nonchalantly as possible. Hope drops her purse and looks up when she answers, "Hey," and then Tobin really panics- "What'd you do to your shoulder?"  
  
Her hand flies to it, that mark that Alex left, and she feels herself blush as she attempts a lie. It's not something she does often and she knows she's awful at it. "I, uh, burnt it. On a thing."  
  
Hope doesn't even answer right away, that's how bad the lie is. She kicks off her heels and tugs her shirt over her head like they're in a locker room and not a hotel room and Tobin, on instinct, averts her eyes. "I don't care what you do with randoms from the street, but at least rent another room."  
  
Tobin sits up a little straighter, hastily covering her shoulder with her ponytail. "It wasn't- I didn't bring a homeless person up here." Hope leans back against the low dresser and crosses her arms. Tobin refuses to look directly at her because she knows if she does she's gonna crack and tell her everything.  
  
As it turns out, she doesn't even have a chance. There's a knock at the door that Hope answers without, apparently, considering her partial nakedness, and then there's Alex, a tube of concealer in her hand.  
  
Hope backs up a step and Alex, staring at the floor, tosses the concealer in Tobin's direction. "Night," she mumbles, or at least that's what it sounds like before she's gone again and Hope turns, incredulous.  
  
" _Alex Morgan_? You're banging Alex _Morgan_?"  
"Hope- Hope, shut up, she's gonna hear you!"  
"But you and _Alex_?"  
  
Hope is beside herself with laughter and Tobin scrambles to recover, face burning.  
  
"We're not- she's just lending me concealer."  
"Yeah, for the huge freaking hickey she gave you!"  
"I don't understand why that's funny," Tobin grumbles, but it's almost a relief not to hide it anymore. Hope's still chuckling until Tobin hits her square in the face with a pillow, which grants her enough of a reprieve to sneak past and into the bathroom.  
  
She's never used concealer out of a tube and she's not really sure what to do with it, so she applies it directly, like toothpaste. Hope is on her within a few seconds, swatting the tube out of her hand. "You're a disaster, she says, "let me do it," and Tobin doesn't have the energy to resist. She falls silent as Hope goes to work, and aside from a murmur of thanks she stays that way until they're both in bed.  
  
She's drifting off when she hears her name and her eyes snap open.  
  
"Tobin."  
"Mm?"  
"You know I'm not gonna tell anyone, right? I might tease you about it but I'd never...I'd never out you."  
  
There's something soft about Hope's voice that Tobin isn't sure she's heard before. It gives her pause, but she rolls over to face her roommate even in the darkness.  
  
"I know."


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final Olympic qualifying match and the start of a totally different game.

“Of all the teams we have played this tournament, this is the one to watch for.” Pia looks around, making eye contact before she turns back to the whiteboard and Alex can lean over to murmur to Tobin under her breath: “We heard that before Mexico, too.”  
  
“It’s all relative,” Tobin replies as Pia begins to talk again. It’s times like this that she remembers how new Alex is, comparitively- how this is Alex’s first qualifying tournament and her second, and she remembers the pressure and the nervousness of 2008 in a rush that leaves her reeling.   
  
“She’s gonna start you,” she says, when Alex’s knee presses against hers under the table, just before Becky shushes them, “I can feel it.”  
  
.,.  
  
Pia starts her.  
  
The lineup is clearly one geared toward attack, even with Becky and Christie splitting the center back- Lori, Megan, and Amy in the midfield makes that obvious before she even takes into account that she’s starting the game up top with Abby for the first time. Abby finds her before the game, pulls her aside, and Alex is suddenly horrendously intimidated and embarrassed for feeling it. “You deserve this,” Abby tells her, and Alex feels herself blush. “You deserve this start, and you’re gonna kick ass today.”  
  
“We both are,” she mutters, curling a little further into her locker, “we’re both gonna kick ass.” Abby laughs and high fives her but it all feels awkward to her, like she’s in someone else’s place, like Lil’s number doesn’t quite belong on her back. Tobin wanders over, too, but she doesn’t say anything. She sits at the foot of the locker Alex is holed up into andplugs in her own earphones and Alex calms herself by watching the line of Tobin’s shoulders and neck as she nods her head to a beat entirely different than the one she’s hearing.   
  
.,.  
  
Watching Abby and Alex start the game together feels like watching the future start to happen right in front of her eyes.  
  
Tobin’s been doing this long enough now to see that explosion of chemistry on the field and know it’s the first of many times she’ll see it. Abby and Alex have been paired up like this before, but something about the way they stand together before the first whistle- something about the way Abby nods and Alex seems to know exactly what she means- makes this time different.  
  
It’s four minutes in when Carli sends a pass Abby’s way and Alex takes off down her side of the field , intercepting Abby’s header, weaving between two defenders- /two/- and puts the ball away into the left of the net like she’s hardly broken a sweat. The Canadians recover and rush at their defense, catching Christie and Becky by surprise, but without fazing Hope, who doesn’t even wait for the ball to leave Julien’s foot before she’s on it.   
  
“Holy shit,” HAO mutters from Tobin’s left, shaking her head, and Tobin laughs in agreement before nervously touching her neck.  
  
Hope’s saves aren’t just on the field, but she’ll never admit that out loud.  
  
.,.  
  
The early goal destroys any of the intimidation that had been leftover at kickoff and Alex focuses on matching Abby step for step. It pays off again somewhere around twenty in when Pinoe hits her with a cross that has enough momentum on its own to up the ante. To her left Abby is waiting, watching her run to the back line, but she knows that only Abby is expecting it when she sets up the shot at the near post. She’s right- Abby’s head connects solidly with the ball and the goalie doesn’t have time to switch direction before it’s past her and the crowd is roaring again and Abby’s arm is around her shoulders like it belongs there.  
  
Five minutes later it happens again, this time less cleanly- Carli shoots and by some breach in physics the ball comes off the post, where Alex finds it and then Abby.  
  
It’s not until the celebration of that goal that Alex realizes what she’s just been a part of- until there’s a dogpile around them and Abby tells her, “you just broke me a record,“ like it was Alex’s shot instead of one off her own foot.   
  
.,.  
  
That’s the end of it for the half and Tobin’s not really surprised when Abby’s subbed out- she’s just broken a record, after all, even if it’s a second-place one- but she _is_  surprised by how different everything is all of a sudden. _Alex_  is different, smoother, more confident, and the rest of the team bends and shifts around her and Abby as they rest for a minute like the heroes of their own little story.   
  
Tobin would be lying if she said she wasn’t jealous.  
  
“We just watched history happen,” Hope says, finding her on the bench.   
“If you’re talking about your attempt at breaking Julien’s ankles, I wouldn’t say you _watched_  that,” Tobin replies, but her smile is uneasy.  
“Just remember who’s got something to hide,” Hope reminds her, and to anyone else it’d sound like a joke, but Tobin reaches to her neck and suddenly Alex doesn’t seem so far away.  
  
.,.  
  
Playing next to Cheney is different, but not in a bad way. Cheney’s certainly easier to keep up with, even if she’s not quite predictably reckless as Abby. The pass that hits Alex’s feet almost 60 minutes into the game isn’t a surprise to anyone- she knows because the Canadian defense draws up and tightens around her like a noose- but it’s solid and it’s easy to run with. Run she does. She knows she needs to act imediately if she’s going to make this count before she’s offsides, so she heads right into the box, knowing at least one of the defenders will follow.   
  
They do, two of them, but they’re slower and they’ve been caught unawares and it’s not easy to slide around them and shoot off her left, right past the goalie’s outstretched hands and into the back of the net for the last time that game. She knows it’s going to be the last the minute it happens because she can feel the sides of her neck start to cramp and knows she’s not going to be ready for another run like that, not after 45 minutes of matching Abby’s breakneck game, and just looking at Lauren confirms that she’s not the only one who knows the game is as good as won.  
  
.,.  
  
When the final whistle blows the bench explodes into a frenzy, and somewhere in that Tobin finds Alex and latches onto her.   
  
It’s impossible for her not to follows Alex around after that, impossible not to get sucked into her post-game glow, and she’s done trying to be subtle about it now. It’s almost as if knowing that someone else knows makes it easier for her to toe the line, as backwards as that seems, and she waits for Alex after her own shower, taking a leaf out of her girlfriend’s book and nestling into one of the empty lockers. By the time Alex finally wanders back into the room everyone but Hope, Carli and Lauren have come and gone and Tobin’s knees are starting to cramp up.  
  
Alex’s smile is worth it.  
  
She reaches down with one hand and Tobin takes it, letting herself be pulled to her feet and into Alex’s arms, where she says for a moment, resting her cheek against Alex’s shoulder and breathing in the smells of soap and shampoo.   
  
“London,” Alex says, and Tobin takes the biggest risk she’s ever taken when she tilts her head and presses her smile against Alex’s neck.  
  
.,.  
  
As right as it felt to start the game by Abby’s side, Tobin is home. Alex knows it and she knows she needs to say it, but after that moment in the locker room it’s like it’s impossible to get a second alone, needless to say find time to look for Tobin, who seems to have disappeared. When everyone starts to group together and head out for the night to celebrate, Alex is finally able to breathe for a moment- and breathe she does, heading down the hallway and pausing at 213, which is, if she remembers correctly, Tobin and Hope’s room.  
  
The door is ajar but she pauses, picking at the nail polish on her thumbnails, weighing her chances of running into the wrong person.  
  
She wants to see Tobin more than she wants anything right then- more than she wants to go out and share her teammates’ enthusiasm, more than she wants to daydream about the Olympics, but she really, really, really does not want to walk in there and run into Hope again.  
  
Not that she doesn’t like Hope, exactly, more that the last time she encountered Hope off the field she was shirtless and it was about a half hour after Alex had overheard her mention sleeping with Tobin.   
  
Before she can make any kind of decision the door opens and she’s face to face with Abby, whose face goes from shocked to pleased in two seconds flat.  
  
“Hey! Come in, how are you, are you sore yet? That second goal was ridiculous; I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone but Pearcie run that fast.”  
  
“I, uh, I guess my quads are kinda sore, but I mean, I’m fine-”  
“I have some IcyHot in here, c’mon in,” Abby  says, stepping back, and Alex knows that she’d feel like a jerk if she didn’t. Abby tosses her the stick as soon as she’s in the room and Alexsits on the edge of one of the beds, tugging her shorts up a little to apply it and getting a rush of nostalgia from the smell.  
  
“I haven’t used this stuff since college,” she says, and Abby laughs, grabbing her wallet off of the nightstand and tucking it into her pocket. “So, what, two weeks ago?”  
  
“I’m not _that_ little,” Alex replies, but she’s grinning again because something about Abby’s easy laugh is infectious and much-needed.   
  
“I’m heading out for a while with Hope and Christie,” Abby says after a moment, rolling out her shoulders, “but you can stay as long as you want, just close the door when you leave.”  
  
Alex wants to ask how Abby knows she’s reluctant to leave, but she doesn’t really get the chance. The IcyHot starts to do its job, numbing the dull ache in her muscles and making the thought of moving even less appealing, esepcially now that there’s no pressure to speak. She’s not sure whose bed she’s on, but it’s made, so she doesn’t feel too bad about flopping onto her back and closing her eyes.  
  
.,.  
  
“We’re going to London,” Tobin says when the door to their room closes behind her. Hope tosses her bag onto her bed and barely hesitates before smiling and opening her arms- “We’re going to London,” she repeats, and Tobin hugs her hard, their relieved laughter filling the room.  
  
“Abby asked me to go out with her tonight,” Hope says when they’re done, “so whatever you’re planning on...doing in here, you have about two hours.”  
  
“You’re gross,” Tobin replies, but she’s laughing.  
  
She shoots Alex a text as soon as Hope is gone, though, because she’s not sure if she should go out or if Alex is still in the hotel.The reply she gets knocks her back on her heels.  
  
Abby’s room.  
  
 _Abby’s_ room.  
  
“Abby’s room?” she asks, poking her head in and startling Alex, who sits bolt upright and blinks at her like she’s sprouted two heads.  
  
“She had IcyHot,” Alex says, but she says it almost guiltily and Tobin feels the hairs on the back of her neck stand up before the end of the sentence that floods her with relief: “and...I got confused. I thought you were 213, not 212, and she started talking and you know how she is when she talks.”  
  
“Not like you do,” Tobin says, and immediately regrets it. That’s a red thing to say, something hot and prickly and jealous and not at all like her. She expects Alex to be annoyed or hurt, but instead Alex grins, tilting her head.  
  
“Are you jealous?”  
“You guys have great chemistry.”  
“So do you and Hope.”  
  
Everything clicks into place so suddenly that Tobin has to take a second, leaning back against the door. “That’s what that was about?”  
  
Alex looks guilty again. “No,” she mutters, “I mean, I didn’t think I really needed a reason, Tobin.”  
  
It’s the first time Alex has said her name in a while and it throws Tobin into gear, giving her the motivation to closer the space between them.  
  
.,.  
  
“You know I don’t want anyone but you, right?”  
  
Alex blushes, getting up to put the IcyHot back on Abby’s nightstand. Out of the corner of her eye she sees Tobin sit on the edge of the bed, patient and solid and everything she’s missed the past few days.   
  
“I’m serious, Al.”  
  
The nickname makes her sigh and she drops into Tobin’s lap, pressing their foreheads together and closing her eyes, still fighting off the blush. “I know you’re serious,” she answers, as Tobin’s hands find her hips. Something’s on the tip of her tongue that’s never been there before, something big and thick with promise that she knows she won’t be able to say for months yet. She feels it, though, in the way they move at the same time to kiss like it’s the first time all over again.   
  
She lifts her hands to Tobin’s face, thumbs brushing the high arches of her cheekbones, and the kiss deepens and becomes something else entirely.It’s only now that Alex realizes exactly how much she’s missed this connection. It’s not safe, what they’re doing, keeping something so secret in a place that neither of them belongs to, but she’s not going to be the one to point that out. Abby won’t be back for a while, anyway, and it’s not like they’re going to get carried away.  
  
.,.  
  
They get completely carried away. Tobin can’t keep her hands still because there’s so /much/ of Alex that she’s missed, so much to touch and remind herself she’s lucky enough to lay claim to. She slips her hands under the hem of Alex’s t shirt and moves until she can feel the rise and fall of ribs under her palms and the bottom of a sports bra just at the brush of her thumbs. Alex reaches one of her hands around and Tobin feels her ponytail come loose before there are fingers in her hair, tugging insistently, urging her on. She doesn’t need to be told twice.  
  
Tobin rolls them so that Alex is on her back, knees bent so that Tobin can rest between them, but doesn’t break the kiss for even a second. She has to use one elbow to prop herself up, but she keeps the other hand under Alex’s shirt, still teasing at the line of her bra. And that’s how they are when the door opens and Abby pops in, caught completely unawares.  
  
Their heads turn in tandem and Tobin feels Alex let out a breath against her collarbone and tense under her hand. For her part, Tobin is frozen in the kind of mortification she’s not sure she’s felt since high school, unable to say a word.  
  
“I…need to grab my jacket,” Abby says, but the shock on her face dissolves into a badly-hidden smirk and Tobin _knows_  she’s choking back laughter, “also, don’t you both have rooms of your own? And a sock or something to put on the door?”  
  
Neither of them answer. Tobin’s pretty sure neither of them are capable. Abby waits for a second and then shrugs, grabbing at the sweatshirt slung over the nearest chair. “Just a thought,” she says over her shoulder on the way out, and when the door closes her laughter is loud enough to follow her down the hall.  
  
.,.  
  
Abby’s laughter, combined with the look on Tobin’s face, is too much for Alex to handle. She’s practically hysterical by the time Tobin manages to ask her why she’s laughing, and by then the severity of the midfielder’s blush is just adding to it.   
  
“She saw us!”  
“So? We’ll move.”  
“So she knows!”  
“And?”  
  
Tobin seems perplexed by that question, like she’s not really sure what else she can say, but Alex still isn’t really done laughing, and when Tobin tries to pull away she locks her knees and presses them into Tobin’s hips until she stops again, albeit reluctantly.   
  
“It’s Abby. It’s not like we’ve offended her.”  
  
Tobin sighs, dropping her head to rest against Alex’s collarbone.   
  
“You said it was too early to be out.”  
“We’re not out. Abby knows, so what?”  
  
There’s a pause then, a pause that makes Alex feel sure that Tobin’s going to say something about her relationship with Abby, but even preparing herself to counter that doesn’t mean she’s ready for it when Tobin says, quietly, “Hope knows, too.”  
  
.,.  
  
“ _Hope_? You told _Hope_?”  
  
Tobin moves away and to her feet, reaching down to pull Alex up with her, avoiding her gaze.  
  
“Why would you tell her?”  
“I didn’t. She didn’t believe me when I said I burnt my neck on something.”  
“So you told her it was _me_?”  
“I didn’t have to! You came in with the concealer and she just...guessed.”  
  
Alex tugs at the hem of Tobin’s shirt and pulls them front to front again, dropping her forehead to rest on Tobin’s shoulder and letting out a sigh. Tobin sighs, too, before defending herself: “Hope’s not gonna tell anyone, Alex.”  
  
“Neither is Abby.”  
“But Hope didn’t see anything.”  
“I don’t get what the difference is.”  
  
Alex lifts her head and Tobin knows she’s waiting for an answer, but there isn’t much of one and she stumbles on the words like untied laces. “You said it was too early to be out,” she croaks again, like she hasn’t just said it earlier, and Alex frowns at her, brows knit in confusion. “That’s _two people_ , Tobin, not the whole world. And it’s not like we were really gonna be able to keep it from the entire team forever, right?”  
  
The idea of the whole team knowing makes Tobin queasy. Specifically, imagining Lauren and Amy’s faces when they find out she’s been hiding something makes her uncomfortable, and she can tell that Alex knows it because the taller girl grabs her hands and knots their fingers together, her voice softening.   
  
“We don’t have to tell anyone else. That’s not what I’m saying. Just...maybe it’s not such a bad thing that Abby walked in on us.”  
  
And in comparison, Alex is right- Abby’s not such a big threat after all. Tobin laughs, tugging Alex towards the door and shaking her head.  
  
“My hand was under your shirt,” she says, and Alex squeezes their joined fingers as they slip through the hallway and into the next room- Tobin’s _real_ room.   
  
“There are worse places it could have been when she opened that door, and you know it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahh okay so I know that irl canon is that Alex had to point out the record to Abby at halftime buttttt i don't really care this is already AU just take it also the next part I post is going to be an interlude and idk when that will be but yeah just a heads up ENJOY COMMENT STUFF IDK THANKS FOR READING I LOVE YOU GUYS


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Interlude: Abby has a hunch she's gotten ahold of gossip first for once.

“You look awfully pleased with yourself,” Hope says as Abby slides into the booth beside her, “did you remember all the trappings of a responsible adult this time?”

For once, Abby doesn’t take the bait, too wrapped up in her discovery. Hope is intrigued by the smugness on Abby’s face- something that only appears when she thinks she’s won something and is therefore something they don’t usually see from Abby off the field. She sips her drink and Christie watches her, then watches Abby, but doesn’t say a word.

“You’ll never guess who I walked in on feeling up Alex Morgan just now.”

Hope manages to look mildly interested without giving herself away, but Christie doesn’t bother. “Tobin,” she supplies, and Hope chokes on her drink. Abby is slackjawed and as Hope coughs her way back into coherence Christie shrugs at them both, raising an eyebrow.

“Was that, like, common knowledge?”

The captain laughs and shakes her head, all pretense of aloofness gone. “I was rooming with Tobin a few games back and they were really awkward around her- like, they wouldn’t make eye contact, and Tobin was really sheepish. I figured it was a good guess.”

The look on Abby’s face is too funny for Hope to resist adding her own two cents: “When you’re rooming with Tobin, it _is_ kind of obvious.” Abby rounds on her so fast she almost knocks over both their drinks and Hope scrambles to steady hers, shooting Abby a withering look- not even an inter-team hookup is worth spilling a Cosmo over. “You knew about this too? Seriously?”

Hope takes a sip of her drink and glances over at Christie, who’s still grinning on the opposite side of the booth. “Like I said, it’s not like they’re particularly subtle. Well- Tobin isn’t, I guess Alex is a little harder to read.” It’s a subtle dig, because if anyone can read Alex it’s Abby, but it goes unnoticed. “That’s just such a weird pair. Does that not strike you guys as weird? I mean, it’s Tobin.”

There’s a prolonged moment of silence before Christie says, with the air of a Kindergarten teacher, “I think your gaydar might be broken.” Abby takes what she hopes looks like a passive-aggressive swig of her drink and carefully picks the words for her reply: “I _knew_ Tobin wasn’t straight, assholes.” Hope pulls a face and protests indignantly exactly at the time Christie bursts into laughter again. 

“I didn’t even say anything, don’t include me in your crusade!”  
“You were thinking it.”  
“You’re engaged to a straight woman!”  
“She’s not straight. She’s- take my word for it, she is _not_ straight.”

By the time Christie is done laughing and Hope is done fake-gagging into her napkin, Abby has composed herself again, to the best of her ability. “What I meant about Tobin was that I thought _Alex_ was straight,” she explains with painstaking care, and Christie stifles a laugh in the heel of her hand as Hope replies, “Yes, because that makes so much sense. I can’t imagine how we got confused.”

“You don’t get to stake a claim on her just because she’s your _protégée_ ,” Hope continues when Abby ignores her, emphasizing her French to a ridiculous degree that even Abby would be tempted to laugh at if she weren’t so offended. 

“Shut up. She definitely seemed straight to me, and I know that’s not just me because she has like half a million thirteen year old boys following her on Twitter.”  
“Nice deduction, Sherlock.”

Before Abby can do more than send a glare Hope’s way, Christie intercepts, idly twirling the straw in her Coke: “She doesn’t have to be gay to be with Tobin, you know.”

“I know that,” Abby insists, beginning to get truly frustrated, “Hope isn’t gay, and-”  
“I was twenty!”  
“I’m just saying that I get it, Jesus. Calm down.”  
“I agree with you that they’re kind of an odd pair,” Christie continues, completely unfazed, “but I think it’s kind of sweet.”  
“Sweet? Seriously? Cap, _you_ weren’t the one to walk in on them canoodling on...on my...holy shit.”

This time it’s Hope who succumbs to laughter, hiding her face in her shoulder as if that will keep Abby from noticing. The fact of the matter is that Abby is too busy having a mini-breakdown to care if someone’s mocking her anymore- “That was my bed! That mattress is completely- it’s ruined, I’m ruined, can I sleep with one of you? How big are the bathtubs? Would calling for a roll-out be too drastic?”

“They didn’t have sex on your bed, Abby,” Christie replies calmly, but she’s holding back a smile, too, especially when Hope turns her head enough to make eye contact. “How do you know?” Abby groans, dramatically dropping her head into her hands and knocking into her beer again, which Hope shoots a hand out to catch just in time. Christie shrugs in Hope’s direction, at a loss for a good answer, but Hope seems to have the right one: “Because you caught them and it’s Tobin and Alex. They’re going to be embarrassed about it. They’re not you.”

Abby makes a face, but visibly relaxes. 

“I _did_ tell them to put a sock on the door,” she muses.

Twenty minutes later, when Hope saunters past Abby’s room to find a sock on her own door, Abby laughs so loudly that they’re sure the whole floor can hear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just really needed to write this interlude because I really needed these dumb jerks to talk about the lovebirds and I knew it'd help tide you guys over while I struggled with the next chapter of one of my other fics. Hope it did the job, kind of!


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Big things happen in Portugal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got a request to extend one of the smuttier chapters from earlier in the fic, so instead of doing that I just kind of incorporated that into this chapter. Don't be fooled, though, there's big plot stuff happening too! Anyway yeah enjoy you guys I love feedback (comments, etc) and I love you if you're still here after this long~

Pia pairs them together in Portugal.   
  
When their names are called, nobody's more surprised than they are, but out of the corner of her eye Alex can see Hope smirking and Abby holding back a laugh.  
  
"It was bound to happen eventually," Tobin says, tossing her duffel onto one of the beds.  
  
"Hope and Abby were laughing about it," she replies, but she can't keep the smile off her face- she's glad she doesn't have to wake up alone this trip. It’s hard to have Tobin and then not have her- it’s even harder to pretend she doesn’t have her at all. All things considered, she’s kind of over being secretive. At first it had been fun, sneaking around, even kind of exciting and hot, but she’s bored with it. It’s become a burden.  
  
And she’s pretty sure nobody would really be all that surprised on the team if they ‘came out’ (or maybe she just doesn’t like that Hope gets some claim to their secret).  
  
“We should just come out.”  
  
Tobin trips over her own feet on her way into the bathroom and catches herself on the doorframe, turning to give Alex a look like maybe she thinks that was a joke.  
  
“I mean, not out out. Just to the team.”  
“...why?”  
“Just, I...aren’t you kind of tired of hiding?”  
  
Tobin scratches the back of her head and shrugs. “I like things the way they are.”  
  
Alex tries another approach, toeing off her sneakers and grabbing Tobin’s shirt right at her waist, pulling until they’re front to front. “You’re gonna have to be more specific,” she says, “what exactly do you like?”  
  
“I like you.”  
  
.,.  
  
She says it half because she likes it when Alex blushes, like she does now, and seeing it up-close is so much better. The last time they were close like this outside their own house, they were rushed and artificially quiet about it, and...maybe Alex is right, a little bit. Maybe it would be easier just to have it all out in the open and not have to worry about when and where she kissed her girlfriend.  
  
Alex laughs. Tobin pecks her on the cheek and ducks out of her arms.  
  
“Seriously. We could tell the whole team, Tobs. “  
“No way. They’d freak. And they’d make us switch rooms.”  
“Okay, the room thing is valid. But nobody would freak out. Abby didn’t, did Hope?”  
“No. Well, she laughed a lot.”  
  
Tobin’s sorting through her (crumpled, not packed) duffel, trying to look busy, but Alex is persistent, wrapping her arms around Tobin’s waist from behind.  
“She laughed?”  
“Alex.”  
“So we don’t want to be separated. We can tell them on the last night.”  
“Ugh, like a dinner announcement?”  
  
“Well when you say it like that...” Alex presses a kiss to Tobin’s neck and Tobin stops pretending she’s going through her duffel for anything in particular, closing her eyes. Things go on like that for a while, Alex’s hands flat on Tobin’s stomach, Alex’s chest pressed against Tobin’s back. Alex trails kisses from Tobin’s ear to her shoulder and then rests there, letting one hand drift down Tobin’s stomach without saying a word.  
  
“I don’t want it to be cliche,” Tobin gasps, considering whether or not she should stop Alex from going any further. “I don’t want it to be, like-” Alex slips her hand under the front of Tobin’s shorts, and Tobin bucks forward before she can stop herself, embarrassed but not enough to stop what Alex has started.  
  
“Like what? You never finished your sentence.”  
  
Tobin finds that she’s clawing at the sweatshirt in her hands, leaning her weight back against Alex and fighting not to rock her hips forward into the minute pressure that’s just not cutting it. She’s certainly in no position to be coherent. And Alex certainly knows that.  
  
The thing is, they’ve never done this like this before- sloppy and spontaneous and clothed, and that alone is enough to make Tobin’s head spin. Alex’s breath is hot on Tobin’s ear: “Use your words.”  
  
“Formal,” Tobin grits out, but Alex doesn’t up the pressure, so she tries again.  
  
“Fake.”  
  
Alex releases Tobin completely.  
  
“We should sleep in separate beds. You know, so that we actually sleep.”  
  
.,.  
  
Denmark is a good warm up.  
  
Alex starts, hoping that the frustration she can see on Tobin’s face is due to the physical distance she’s kept between them and not because she’s a sub. She’s kept from touching Tobin as much as possible the last two days, and even though she’s said it’s “to focus on the game”, she has an ulterior motive: to remind Tobin what it’s like not to have the closeness they should have.  
  
The second there’s a ball at her feet she forgets everything else.  
  
.,.  
  
Tobin feels like she’s going to explode.  
  
She needs the outlet of gameplay and she’s not getting it- actually, she’s not getting _anything_ , and that’s what’s got her so tightly wound. It’s killing her to sleep and wake up so close to Alex without being able to touch her- and she gets the reason why, she really does, but now she’s kind of wishing they were rooming with other people.  
  
Or out.  
  
Whatever, she doesn’t care, at this point she really just wants to play soccer or have sex. She’s not picky. She’ll take either.  
  
Twenty minutes in, Alex scores, and it starts a landslide. They hold possession for almost the entire first half, and in the minute of stoppage time Abby scores, ending it on a high note and trotting off the field with Alex tucked under her arm. Tobin burns red with jealousy and thoughts she knows are wrong, thoughts that make her feel like she needs to be forgiven for something, in capital letters.  
  
The goal was off of Alex’s assist and Tobin watches, churning, as Abby smacks a sloppy kiss to Alex’s forehead. That’s how they are now. Joined at the hip.  
  
.,.  
  
Tobin goes in for Abby after the half is through, and Alex would be lying if she said the look on Tobin’s face didn’t scare her a little. It had never occurred to her that she might end up pushing Tobin away, and that’s not really what she wants- it’s her competitiveness that’s making her do what she does, and now she’s thinking she might regret it.  
  
Tobin drops back and Cheney comes up top to match with Alex. Every pass that Tobin hits meets Cheney’s foot like magic. Alex only gets one or two. Carli scores, Sydney goes in for Cheney, and then, as if things haven’t been moving fast enough, Sydney ends the game with another goal.  
  
By the time Alex is out of the showers, Tobin’s already on the bus, safe between Lauren and the window, leaving Alex to a seat by herself.  
  
.,.  
  
They barely have time to talk before they change and head out to dinner with the rest of the team, but in the crowded elevator Alex finds Tobin’s hand and squeezes it, just for a moment. Just long enough that Tobin knows her stupid rule can be broken.  
  
Dinner, though, is torture. The service is slow and the lights are dim, so dim, apparently, that Alex seems to realize nobody will notice if her hand drops to Tobin’s thigh under the table. Tobin bites the inside of her cheek and tries her hardest to stay engaged in the conversation, but she’s remembering the last time Alex’s hands were on her and she swears the temperature in the room jumps twenty degrees no matter how hard she tries to suppress the memory.  
  
She’s so relieved when the food comes and Alex’s hands are occupied that she’s pretty sure her entire demeanor changes. Out of the corner of her eye she’s watching Alex, waiting, but she’s able to actually carry on a conversation in the space the meal allows them.  
  
She manages to avoid Alex on the way back to the hotel by sticking close to Amy and Lauren, but she can feel Alex watching her as they walk and that’s almost as bad. Tobin’s gonna have to give, just like she always does, because Alex is right about coming out to the team and she knows it.  
  
.,.  
  
Abby stops Alex in the lobby, startling her because her focus has been on Tobin since long before dinner.   
  
“If you need to switch rooms or something, we can do it quietly.”  
  
It takes Alex an entire thirty seconds of confusion to figure out that Abby thinks something has gone wrong, and when she figures it out she laughs. Tobin’s waiting for her by the elevators; she can tell because she can see her girlfriend’s face fall a little when she sees what’s keeping Alex behind.  
  
“Abby. We’re fine.”  
“Really? Cause Tobin’s looked like she might kill someone all day, and that’s weird for her.”  
  
There are still people milling around them, and Alex is suddenly conscious of how _loud_ Abby is- and how Tobin’s gaze hasn’t wavered. She leans in a little bit and drops her voice, knowing she’s about to pay for it but needing the secrecy. There’s no subtler way to get Abby to be any quieter without telling her to lower her voice, anyway, so it’s not like she has a choice.  
  
“Believe me. If something was wrong, you would know.”  
  
Abby follows her to the elevator, too, but Hope snags her at the last second, keeping her back with the other half of the team that just isn’t going to fit. Alex squeezes in next to Shannon and makes eye contact with Tobin across the car.  
  
She’s barely in the room before Tobin’s on her, pushing her back against the door with more force than she looks like she’s capable of but not saying a word. The frustration is gone from Tobin’s gaze but it’s still hot, hot enough that Alex shifts uncomfortably without something to do or say to distract herself.  
  
Tobin seems to be content just looking for a second, her head tilted back because this close their height difference demands it. Alex, hoping for a change of pace, lets her hands rest on Tobin’s hips. She gets something, but not exactly what she wants; Tobin avoids skin-to-skin contact and tugs upwards at Alex’s shirt instead, until Alex gives in and pulls it over her head.  
  
.,.  
  
She takes her time.  
  
She takes her time mostly because she knows it drives Alex crazy and she wants Alex to feel some of the frustration _she’s_ felt since there was a hand down the front of her shorts two days ago. Alex picks up on that pretty quickly.  
  
“This is revenge, isn’t it?” she asks, and Tobin doesn’t even bother to answer, just smiles to herself, watching her hands as they slide over Alex’s stomach and abs.   
  
“For what? For talking to Abby?”  
Tobin pauses at Alex’s ribs, just below her bra. “I don’t care about Abby.”  
  
Alex doesn’t speak again until Tobin gives in and trails her thumbs over the fabric of the bra, refusing to exert any pressure at all.  
  
“For making you sleep in the other bed?”  
  
Tobin shakes her head, entranced by skin and lace (of course the bra is lace; when Alex isn’t in workout clothes she dresses like such a _girl_ ) and inching one hand behind Alex’s back to mess with her bra clasp.  
  
“You teased me,” she says, half paying attention. “You’ve been teasing me for, like, forty-eight hours.”  
  
Tobin gets the clasp but doesn’t bother with the straps, pressing an openmouthed kiss to Alex’s collarbone. She can feel that Alex is impatient in the way she shimmies out of the bra completely and tosses it aside, but even with Alex’s hands in her hair she refuses to change course.   
  
“I was trying to get you to admit that you agreed with me,” Alex says, and Tobin bites her shoulder.  
  
.,.  
  
There’s not much Alex can do at this point but hold on and hope that Tobin gets this stupid idea of revenge out of her system quickly (because if she doesn’t she’s is pretty sure she’s going to lose her mind). She doesn’t mind being passive, but the slow burn is killing her. Tobin’s lips against her shoulder are killing her.  
  
“If you knew that I agreed with you, then why would you bother?”  
  
Tobin is clothed and coherent and brushes a thumb across the curve of one breast, leaving Alex breathless and shifting against the wall. She doesn’t answer. She can’t. Even if she could, she’s not sure it’d make a difference. She can try to even the playing field, and that’s just what she does, dragging her index finger along the waist of Tobin’s jeans, tugging at the front button. Tobin reaches down and pushes her hand away, and for a second Alex thinks she’s going to have to fight for it before Tobin pulls her wrinkled t-shirt over her head and drops it to the floor.  
  
They kiss, then, and Alex realizes that they haven’t in two days and is hungry for it, one hand in Tobin’s hair and the other back at the button of her jeans, tugging forward, half in an attempt to get them off and half to bring their hips together and give her something to work with. She can tell Tobin’s fighting to keep the upper hand, but she’s determined to get some of her leverage back, and she’s insistent with lips and tongue until she gets what she wants and Tobin pops the button on her jeans.  
  
There is no way to get out of skinny jeans that isn’t awkward but even that doesn’t really change the atmosphere because Alex is too impatient to keep her own on (and give Tobin something else to waste time over), so by the time they’ve both hopped out of denim there’s nothing left to distract them from each other.  
  
She’s off the wall now and her height is an advantage again, so she uses it, pushing Tobin with a little too much force so that they both end up falling to the nearer of the two beds and bouncing on the too-hard mattress before they find each others’ lips again.  
  
.,.  
  
Tobin’s not surprised that Alex refuses to let her keep control of the situation. She fights it anyway, trying to match the twist of Alex’s wrist and the rocking of her own hips to those above them. She doesn’t mind the hitch in her own breath just as long as she can get a sigh or a moan or _something_ out of Alex.   
  
Alex  eventually pulls away from the kiss and drops her forehead to Tobin’s collarbone, and under the palm of Tobin’s free hand her lower back tenses as she sucks in a breath and holds it. When Alex lets that breath out, her hand stills and her back arches and her teeth scrape over Tobin’s skin, and Tobin follows her, head pressed back, toes curling, Alex’s name like a prayer on her lips.  
  
.,.  
  
“We should fight more often.”  
  
“Shut up, I’m sleeping.”  
  
.,.  
  
When they play against Norway it’s like everything has finally clicked back into place.  
  
They’re both in the starting lineup, both well-rested and ready to focus, and it pays off. Alex doesn’t score, but she plays a strong half, even targeted by Norway’s defense. They discover quickly that Abby- who has a good twenty pounds on the largest of them- isn’t going to go down as easily as Alex will, and Alex has her first experience being the forward flanked by 2 defenders at all times.  
  
And go down she does. Not as often as Tobin thinks she’s going to, but enough times to end the half covered in grass clippings and dirt and new bruises. Enough to be completely exhausted, and enough that Pia elects to start Sydney in the second half.  
  
Tobin brings Alex her water because she looks like she doesn’t want to leave the bench, and Alex smiles at her so warmly she feels like a hero.  
  
“I don’t think even Abby could play a full ninety minutes of that,” she says gently, and Alex laughs, drinking half the bottle in one go.   
  
“I would have asked to be subbed second half if Pia hadn’t done it, Tobin. It’s fine.”  
  
.,.  
Abby scores five minutes into the second half and Sydney is on fire. She doesn’t play the way Alex does; her game is about quick passes instead of long, loping strides and although it takes about ten minutes for Abby to adjust, watching them play cohesively for the rest of the game terrifies Alex to the core.  
  
She had been relieved for the sub- she’s _still_ relieved for the sub, and Sydney is one of her close friends- but she hasn’t felt this threatened since she made the roster and she’s not sure what to do about it.  
  
Sydney scores with seven minutes left in the game. Alex sees Tobin look for her right after the celebration and she forces a smile, but she feels like a stranger.  
  
.,.  
  
“I forgot how good Syd was in games.”  
  
It’s so quiet that Tobin isn’t quite sure she hears it right. She looks up from the Bible in her lap to see Alex leaning out of their hotel balcony overlooking the pool and frowns, letting her thumb keep the page.   
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
Alex sighs. Stories below, Tobin can hear Kelley’s voice- and Abby’s, and Christie’s- and wonders what they’re missing (and if she’d really miss it).  
  
“I mean, I see her in practice all the time, but it was different watching her play next to Abby.”  
  
“In your spot.”  
  
“It’s not mine, that’s what I mean. It could be anybody’s. It could be Sydney’s.”  
  
Tobin thinks about that for a moment, rolling it over in her mind and on her tongue. Sydney and Abby doesn’t sound half as good as Alex and Abby, and she knows her bias only accounts for part of that.   
  
“I don’t think so, Lex.”  
  
Alex turns her head and the smile on her face is different than any Tobin’s ever seen before- affectionate and kind of bewildered, like Tobin’s woken her up from a deep sleep. Tobin dogears the page and puts the Bible on the balcony table, crossing her arms.  
  
“What?”  
“You’ve never called me that before. Lex.”  
“Sorry.”  
  
She laughs and Tobin just gets more confused, especially when Alex comes and joins her on the lounge chair, cross-legged, leaning in to peck her on the lips.   
  
“I like it. Let’s keep it.”  
  
.,.  
  
They both play all ninety minutes of the game against Japan. It’s a wet day, cold and wet and Tobin wakes with her ankle stiff and awkward as if she got her cast of yesterday and not years ago. Alex sees it in the way she hobbles to the bathroom in the morning, even though she tries to play it off, and insists that Tobin wraps it before the game.   
  
She’s glad for that later. The Japanese play fast and hard, like they always do, but after Norway and Denmark it catches the bulk of the team by surprise. Even with Rampone as unfazed as ever, the rest of their back line- missing Ali like it’s missing a limb- can’t keep up. Tobin runs interference the whole game, attempting to play good defense on an ankle that won’t cooperate with a mindset that is and always has been very attack-oriented, and Alex _worries_.  
  
She’s an empathizer. She worries about people a lot, kind of superficially, because she cares so much about everyone, but this is different. Every time Tobin goes for a ball she feels all the muscles in her body tense. Right at the end of the first half, Takase goes in hard and Tobin is the one to take the hit. It’s 43 minutes in and Tobin goes down (she _never_ goes down) to her knees for almost ten seconds before she’s up again with Cheney’s help.  
  
Alex catches up with Tobin before they’re even off the field and refuses to let her avoid the concern.  
  
“Please ask not to play the second half.”  
“I’m fine.”  
“You’re not fine. You can’t get hurt again, the Olympics are in a few months and we’re already missing-”  
  
Tobin cuts her off with a flash of what could almost be anger, something Alex isn’t sure she’s ever seen before and has no idea how to react to- “I’m _fine_. I can take a little knocking around just like anyone else. I’m not made of china.”  
  
.,.  
  
She’s tired of it.  
  
She hates being weak more than she hates anything in the world except being pitied and right now she’s dealing with both and a Japanese team that’s running the whole team ragged. She doesn’t want to snap at Alex, but it annoys her that the team- her girlfriend included- seem to be concerned as soon as she takes a single hit, when most of them can take 45 minutes of rough play just fine.  
  
She’s always been a little smaller than everyone else. She might be average height, but she’s slight- “lean”, her mother calls it- and a thrown elbow goes a long way in putting her off-kilter. It’s not the way she looks that bothers her, or even the reality of her situation (which is, quite frankly, that she can’t physically handle the kind of things Alex or Abby or Cheney can handle) that bother her. It’s the isolation. It’s being considered apart from her teammates. It’s the ‘being different’.  
  
And Alex’s worried eyes aren’t helping.  
  
Pia asks her off to the side whether or not she’s alright to play the second half and she plasters on a smile, rolling her ankle out, praying for a break in the clouds and a breach in the Japanese line.  
  
“I’m tougher than you think,” she says, and Pia smiles like she really believes it.  
  
.,.  
  
The game ends with a Japanese goal and a downpour.  
  
For the first time since Alex has bothered to pay attention, she’s out of the showers before Tobin is. She braids her hair while she waits and is surprised by the person who shoots her a smile after such a heavy defeat- it’s Hope, wet hair darkening the shoulder of her sweatshirt. It doesn’t stop at the smile and Alex is completely floored by the fact that Hope is even talking to her. For some reason the whole outing fiasco made her feel as if Hope was Tobin’s friend and confidant alone, but now she’s remembering that’s not true at all.  
  
“It’s just the Algarve. So we don’t win. So we come in, what, third or fourth- we’re still going to the Olympics.”  
  
Tobin appears over Hope’s shoulder with downcast eyes, but Alex is smiling.  
  
“You’re right.”  
  
Hope has a habit of doing that.  
  
.,.  
  
By the end of the night they know they’re playing Sweden in the third-place match and Pia immediately calls a group meeting so that they can review their opponents’ strengths and weaknesses. Tobin is the only one who seems to be really focused, other than the usual crew of Pearcie, Becky, and Lauren.  
  
Abby takes the seat behind HAO and spends the first three minutes of the meeting before Pia calls them to order putting as many tiny shreds of paper in the midfielder’s sweatshirt hood before she gets caught and shoved. Alex is predictably entertained by that, not that she shouldn’t be, but Tobin is itching for some kind of structure. She has to get back on track and Sweden is going to be her chance to do that, to prove once again that she does deserve her spot on the team, that an old ankle injury isn’t enough to screw up a whole game for her.  
  
Pia starts with today’s game and Tobin suddenly changes her mind about the whole focus thing.  
  
“This was a rough game. This was a rough team to face, but I’m surprised it took us so long to bounce back-” even Carli is paying attention now, biting at her cuticles, “and I want to remind all of you that a team of Japan’s caliber is a team we will be seeing again in the summer Olympics. We can’t afford to get overwhelmed and stop fighting.”  
  
Pia lets the silence lay over them, suffocating. Someone coughs a dry awkward-silence cough and Tobin looks up from her hands to make eye contact with their coach, startled when she sees that Pia is looking right at her.  
  
“Not everybody stopped fighting today. Those of you who didn’t know who you are.”  
  
.,.  
  
The morning of the third place match they wake up curled around each other like the blanket wasn’t enough to keep them warm, Alex’s arm trapped under Tobin’s torso and Tobin’s nose pressed against Alex’s neck. The alarm calls for attention from the dresser across the room (because both of them are adept at hitting snooze without ever being conscious) and Tobin blinks at least ten times before she rolls out of Alex’s arms and almost into the in-room coffee table.  
  
They start the day laughing.  
  
Everyone seems to be lighthearted that morning. Even Pinoe is awake and chipper at breakfast, and Alex has a good feeling about Sweden before the first whistle even blows. She’s not surprised that Tobin starts, not after the way she played against Japan (with a bad ankle that she still won’t admit to having), but Tobin seems to be. Alex etches the look of surprise and pride on Tobin’s face into her memory, and it’s that face that she sees when her shot hits the back of the net four minutes into the game.  
  
She scores again somewhere closer to the end of the half, but she’s so engrossed that she’s not even sure what time it is- maybe close to the thirty minute mark- and it doesn’t matter. Every pass sent her way hits her foot just right. At least half of them are Tobin’s or Abby’s. When half of the midfield dogpiles her after that goal, she hears Pinoe tell her to go for three and Tobin laughs and Alex decides she’s going to do it.  
  
.,.  
  
Abby scores less than five minutes after Alex’s second goal and they end the half with a 3 goal lead that leaves them dizzy. Tobin doesn’t even mind getting subbed out halfway through the second half, because she’s so excited to see the rest of the game that it doesn’t matter where she is while she does it.   
  
The Swedish team manages to get possession a few times, but their forwards are no match for the Buehler and LePeilbet tag team, and when Cheney sends a ball down the left side into Alex’s waiting feet Tobin knows immediately that Alex isn’t going to stop until she’s scored one last time. She’s right, but it doesn’t take long- Alex passes to Abby and makes a run clear around the two defenders hoping to intercept her, earning and re-earning her nickname before Abby sets the shot up and Alex sends it home.  
  
It’s her first hat trick and the celebration comes all the way to the bench, where Tobin can see the exhausted completeness on Alex’s face even over shoulders and heads and arms of other people.  
  
Sydney goes in for Abby not long after that, and Abby sits the bench next to Tobin, so close that they jostle together.  
  
Abby doesn’t know a lot about personal space. Tobin has known that since she joined the team, but somehow over the past few days she’s only seen that trait when Alex was involved, which makes her feel childish and stupid. She almost wants to apologize, but realizes that would mean explaining herself and leans into Abby’s arm a little instead.  
.,.  
  
Tobin completely forgets their agreement until Alex stops the entire dinner to ‘make an announcement’ and she turns so red that she’s sure she matches the hat on her head.  
  
She’s never been so uncomfortable in all her life. She’s mystified as to how Alex is even talking at all and scrunching up her nose and trying to turtle back into her chair enough that she’s hidden from view. When Alex is done Tobin takes a risk and looks around the table at the teams’ reactions.  
  
Abby looks so serious that Tobin knows it’s fake. Hope is laughing quietly into her napkin. Hao has stopped with her fork halfway to her mouth and seems to think nobody will notice if she (very slowly) brings it the rest of the way there. Shannon blinks. Pearcie grins.  
  
“If that’s all,” Carli says, her voice dripping with how hard she’s trying to be civil and making Hope laugh even harder, her cheeks turning pink from the effort of staying quiet, “can we keep eating?”  
  
That’s the cue for most of them to do just that, moving on like nothing of particular importance has happened- but not Kelley.  
  
“Oh my God. Oh my God, wait, are you guys serious or is this a joke?”  
  
Tobin hopes against hope that Alex won’t answer her but she hopes in vain.   
  
“Why would we be kidding?”  
“Oh my God!”  
  
Kelley is beside herself, practically squealing, and even after Tobin kicks her under the table she barely reels it in.   
  
“You guys roomed together this whole tournament,” Kelley says, and when nobody reacts she nudges Hope, who’s to her left- “They shared a room!” Hope gives Kelley a long look and then shifts to look at Tobin for a moment before shrugging and going back to her dinner.  
  
“They live together. I’m pretty sure they can handle themselves.”  
  
Tobin looks at Alex and their hands meet under the table, fingers knotting together out of habit, and when they smile they do it together.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first Olympic game, and the start of a new era.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's a bit weird- the first part is an interlude-ish bit that's attached to the previous chapter, and takes place between the Algarve and the Olympics- and the rest of the chapter jumps forward to the Olympics. I trust that you are all intelligent enough to keep up haha it's not complicated i promise okay i love you all this is a long chapter aaaaaand i think that's all i have to say? so. yeah. enjoy

 

* * *

 

On the plane back Tobin hustles and squeezes herself into the middle seat of Amy and Lauren’s row, even though it’s the hardest seat to sleep in. That’s what tips Lauren off that something’s not quite right, she’s used to having to fight for the window seat but Tobin is quiet, thumbing through her Bible. On the other side, Amy looks up from the SkyMall magazine in her hands to exchange a glance with Lauren, who, at a loss, can only shrug. It’s a short flight- Lisbon to Madrid- but as exhausted as everyone is, there’s a lot of chatter. Tobin doesn’t speak through the taxiing, through Barnie and Mittsy’s laughter as they set the rules for their crossword-off, through the rumble of takeoff. She waits until she can hear Abby snoring softly a few rows up before she looks up and heaves a sigh.

  
Amy’s already watching her, so instead of prolonging it any more than she has to, she lets it out: “Are you guys mad at me?”  
  
“Why would we be?”   
  
It’s genuine confusion on Amy’s part, less at the question and more at the delivery. Cheney drops her earbuds into her lap and Tobin shrugs, fixing her eyes on the back of Buehler’s head where it pokes out from the headrest in front of her.   
  
“Cause. I mean, I didn’t...tell you guys about Alex before anyone else.”  
  
Lauren pulls a face. “You’ve never been one to talk about that stuff.”  
  
It’s true, and it gives Tobin pause. In many ways this conversation is already not going to plan. She had expected more of one- either that they’d have a bone to pick with her, or that they’d rush to assure her that they were excited for her. This kind of grayness between them is hard for her to know what to do with, because it leaves the entirety of the conversation up to her. As is usually the case when it falls to her to make some kind of conversational decision, she blunders: “I didn’t know if you guys even knew I was....you know.”  
  
She can’t even say it. She’s not even sure she’s gay, but she’s pretty sure she at least appears that way, considering that her last two relationships have been girls- but that doesn’t mean she can say it out loud. Mostly she tries not to think about it too long. There’s too much being said about it already for her to bother worrying herself over what God thinks of her; she has the utmost faith that His judgment won’t be based on something so trivial, but that doesn’t make it all that much easier to deal with the way other people talk about it.   
  
“I think you’re confusing us with people who don’t know you very well,” Lauren says. It’s a joke that pushes against the line of ‘offensive’, but there’s so much affection in her voice- and in her face- that Tobin outright melts into a relieved smile.   
  


* * *

  
  
Darlington is colder than they expected it to be, and too wet for them to hit the field, so Pia sends them right to the gym. Tobin finds that it’s a welcome distraction now that the nerves are starting to show, and when Hope joins her at one of the bicycle machines she gives up on the idea of listening to music.  
  
“This isn’t your first rodeo,” Hope says, slapping her knee good-naturedly with the handcloth she always brings with her into the gym sessions, “buck up, Heath.”  
  
As strange as it seems, the tough love is what she needs to get going, and get going she does. There’s not a doubt in her mind that she’s going to work herself to exhaustion because Hope is next to her doing the same, wordlessly pushing them both to the limit, and though Hope’s breath leaves her first Tobin feels the numbness in her legs a full half mile before she lets herself stop.  
  
.,.  
  
The jet lag is killing her.   
  
Alex feels like she’s running underwater and she’s infinitely glad for the gym day because she knows that being on the field would just make her feel like an idiot. Lauren’s her roommate, and she’s lucky enough to be the first in the room and the first into the shower.  
  
When she gets out there’s a pack of Skittles on her bed and Lauren’s leaning out the balcony window. “Those are for you,” she says, turning with a smile, “but don’t tell Mombach I ruined your dinner.”  
  
From there on it’s an uphill climb, but Alex doesn’t mind now that she’s been reminded of something she’s surprised she ever forgot: they’re a family, and the Olympics won’t change that. They won’t change _her_.  
.,.  
  
Lauren's the one who opens the door, and Tobin immediately yanks one of the strings of her hoodie until the other threatens to disappear into the hood. She gets a slap on the wrist for it, then ducks under Cheney's arm and into the room, flopping onto her stomach on the bed so that her head is in Amy's lap and her knees are pressed into Alex's.  
  
"I was just about to come and find you," Lauren says from the doorway as Alex presses her fingers into the ticklish spot behind Tobin's knee and dodges the half-hearted kick, "I'm going for a run, you wanna come?"  
  
"Me and Alex ran earlier," she replies, and Cheney fake-gags.   
"I'll go," Amy says, pushing at Tobin’s head, “I really should, at any rate.”  
“Don’t leave me alone with _her_ ,” Alex whines, when Tobin sits up a little to let Amy up and then flops back down into her lap.  
  
“If you have sex in our room I will personally cut boob-holes in all of your jerseys,” Cheney replies rapidfire, and Amy laughs, which makes Tobin laugh, which ends in Alex shoving her off the bed and onto the floor.  
  
Tobin stays on the floor after Amy and Lauren are gone, rolling onto her back after a moment or two. Alex uncrosses her legs and nudges Tobin’s stomach with one of her feet, not giving up until Tobin reaches out and grabs it to stop her.  
  
“What’s up with you?”  
  
It’s such a simple thing, but it means so much- that they can be together and still just be friends when they want to be means the world to Tobin, and she knows Alex feels the same- that she smiles in spite of her worries about tomorrow. She doesn’t want to share those nerves with Alex, not because being vulnerable bugs her, but because she’s afraid to give Alex any nerves she might not have yet. She considers deflecting the question, but thinks better of it and lets her smile fade a little.  
  
“I’m nervous. I _never_ get nervous.”  
  
Alex nudges Tobin’s hand with her foot again, then pulls her foot back up and rolls over onto her stomach on the bed so that she can look down at Tobin, chin resting in her hands.  
  
“It’s okay to be nervous, you know. It’s normal. It’s the Olympics.”  
“Thanks for reminding me,” Tobin groans, pressing the heels of her hands into her closed eyes.  
“Then I’ll distract you. Let’s play truth or dare.”  
  
Tobin lets her hands fall to the carpet and gives Alex a skeptical look. “How are we supposed to do any kind of dare? Wouldn’t 20 questions be smarter?”  
  
And Alex concedes that it is.  
  
.,.  
  
The truth is that Alex really only wanted answers, and she knows that Tobin knew that from the beginning. She’s not just any better at communicating it once she knows that Tobin understands her. That’s part of what she loves so much about their relationship- her inability to communicate well isn’t a problem because Tobin can read her.  
  
Tobin gets to ask the first question and she asks why Alex prefers cats to dogs. The answer is long-winded and involves far too much talk about the advantages of kitty litter as opposed to having to walk a dog but Tobin is grinning by the end of it, endlessly amused by Alex, who knows exactly how ridiculous her answer is but doesn’t care because she knows she’s right.  
  
Alex’s first question is about what it’s like being the middle child, and the way Tobin talks about her family rapidly becomes Alex’s new favorite thing. Tobin says she remembers when Jeffrey was born, but that Katie and Perry say there’s no way she does. She says some of her earliest memories involve being dressed up like a Barbie doll; that she and Jeff would conspire against their older sisters and play gross pranks on them, that Jeff would often break her out of ‘girl-time’ that generally ended in her clothed in too much pink and forced to attend a tea party she never asked to be involved in, that long Sundays spent at church felt like summer that never ended, and Alex feels as if she’s experiencing all of it firsthand.  
  
Tobin’s second question is about Berkley, and it brings Alex right back to the campus, all white marble buildings and the smell of the shore even from her dorm; to practices at 5 am after parties until 2, and then studying all day. She says- and she means it, she realizes- that she’s not sure how she even lived through college, the way she did it. She could have chosen to party and play soccer and not worry about her degree; she would still have graduated because she led the team in scoring all four years and they weren’t going to expel her if she at least coasted through with passing grades, but passing had never been good enough for her.   
  
“That’s so _you_ ,” Tobin says, sitting up and crossing her legs under her so that they’re face to face. Alex frowns, retying her ponytail. “What do you mean?”  
  
“I mean that’s just so...I dunno, it makes perfect sense. You have to be the best at everything.”  
  
“I don’t _have_ to be,” she replies, a little defensive, but Tobin just laughs at her and clarifies a little more: “You don’t have to be. I just meant that you always wanna be. You can never choose just one thing to be the champion of.”  
  
“I would hardly say I was a champion of pol-econ,” Alex says, but she gets it now and Tobin’s smile is contagious, “not like I am at monop deal.”  
  
.,.  
  
Alex’s next question changes the course of discussion and catches Tobin so off-guard she forgets to hide the reaction from her face.  
  
“Why did your last relationship end?”  
  
She asks it so innocently that Tobin knows there’s no subtext to it, but she hasn’t thought about any of that in so long that remembering it again feels like remembering someone else’s life. She waffles for a moment over whether or not to go into it in detail, but decides not to unless she’s pressed about it.  
  
“I kept avoiding the L word,” she murmurs, picking at the carpet.  
“That’s it?”  
“She, uh...thought that meant I wasn’t serious, I guess. It’s fine. We’re friends now.”  
  
She can feel the atmosphere change a little when she uses a pronoun; knows that Alex wasn’t expecting her to have been with a girl before and isn’t sure how to talk about it unless prompted. The silence hangs for a few precious heartbeats before Alex shifts on the bed.   
  
“She, huh. Anyone I know?”  
“Maybe. Probably. I dunno.”  
“You’re being awfully shifty about it. Is it someone I’m gonna judge you for? Is it someone on the team?”  
  
She can tell Alex is kidding but recoils anyway, pursing her lips. “No, she’s not on the team, she’s- we went to UNC together.”  
  
“Ashlyn?”  
  
Tobin outright laughs despite her discomfort, shaking her head.  
  
“It is, isn’t it! It was Ashlyn. Oh my God, talk about awkward.”  
“It wasn’t Ashlyn!”  
  
The relief on Alex’s face is so sharp that Tobin gets suspicious, but she finishes the thought before she bothers to ask her next question, still pulling at the loose threads in the carpet. “It was Brittani. I don’t know if you know her or not but I’m assuming you probably at least know her name.” That settled, she leans her elbows onto her knees and fixes Alex with an unwavering gaze: “Since it’s not Ashlyn, you wanna tell me why that’d be so awkward?”  
  
“Wait, Brittani like Bartok? Like, Ashlyn’s fling Brittani?”  
“Stop avoiding the questi- Ashlyn’s what? When did that happen?”  
“Uh, before Ali, obviously, so...”  
  
Tobin shakes her head violently, covering Alex’s mouth with her hand- “I don’t actually wanna know, I changed my mind, just answer my question.”  
  
“I thought I _was_  answering your question,” Alex says coyly, pulling Tobin’s hand away from her mouth but not quite letting go. Tobin isn’t having it.  
  
“The other one. The one about it being awkward with Ashlyn.”  
“We...maybe got kind of drunk at a league party once. And danced a lot. She’s, uh...handsy.”  
  
“Gross,” Tobin cuts her off, “let’s just not talk at all.”  
  
Alex grins, reaching over to tip Tobin’s chin up for a kiss. They linger like that for a minute, Alex savoring the kiss before she bothers to think like a responsible adult.   
  
“We can’t do this in here; Cheney will kill us.”  
“I meant playing Monop Deal.”  
  
.,.  
  
“I don’t understand why _you’re_ nervous,” Alex says after breakfast the day of the game. She’s picking at the nail polish on her thumbnails again, like she usually does when she gets like this, and doesn’t even make eye contact with Tobin when she finishes her sentence: “I mean, you’ve done all this before.”  
  
Tobin drags her into the stairwell when everyone heads for the elevator, all nervously chatting or trying to diffuse so that nobody seems to notice, and kisses her up against the railing.  
  
“You’ve done _that_ before. Does it feel any different?”  
  
Alex smiles down at her and the tension leaves her shoulders all at once.  
  
“I guess not.”  
  
.,.  
  
They both start the first game.  
  
The energy in the locker room beforehand is sporadic; mostly excitement but there’s a tinge of uncertainty in the younger players that Tobin knows extends to her, too. Alex doesn’t leave her locker until they’re called to head out to the hallway and line up, and Tobin doesn’t try to talk to her now that she’s in her zone. In her own way, Tobin isolates herself- replying menially when spoken to, but trying to focus as much as possible. She reminds herself how lucky- not lucky, blessed- she is to be there, breathing in through her nose, and remembers her promise to make the best of every moment.   
  
Everyone prepares in their own way. Hope is one of the only players, during the anthems, who seems to be able to stand still. With her hands clasped behind her and her feet hip-width apart, she looks infinitely more intimidating than she usually does, and next to her Kelley seems especially small and somber. Abby, as usual, doesn’t keep still, shaking out her legs and tapping her fingers against her chest when she raises her hand above her heart during the Star Spangled Banner.  
  
They’re not even fifteen minutes in and France scores twice close together. Tobin can hear Hope curse from halfway up the field the second time, and when Kelley’s commiseration pat is shrugged off she looks away, steeling herself for the comeback.   
  
Because they have to come back. It’s in the nature of the game, and it’s in the nature of the way they play as a team- though they go down, they never go down for long- and she recognizes it in her teammates as they recover in the few seconds between the goal and the ball going back into play. She makes eye contact with Shannon, who nods at her, and then she throws herself so hard into the game that she forgets who she is.  
  
Shannon goes down almost immediately after that, and Tobin feels herself starting to hover but contains it as best she can until carli’s on the field and their momentum can pick up again. It seems a little too cruel- two goals and an injury in under five minutes- but Tobin refuses to dwell on it.   
  
It’s too early to give up.  
  
.,.  
  
Alex looks around her and sees the same teammates she’s always seem, but they look like strangers to her now. They’ve played France before, but these players are strangers too; with the pressure of an Olympic medal as a possibility they have turned into cold, calculating women who have forgotten the joy of the game. Even Abby is stone-faced when Alex glances over, and she suddenly feels like a bird of the wrong flock, like she’s slipped into an alternate universe just different enough to keep her off-balance.  
  
Abby scores and Alex swears she can feel the weight of the entire world slide off her shoulders when she rushes into the striker’s arms. “We’re not tied up yet,” Abby laughs, but Alex doesn’t care- the stagnancy of the last twenty minutes is over, and if Abby can do it, so can she.  
  
And she does. She locks herself into game mode so quickly that she starts to lose track of who is who, just registers the colors of her teammates jerseys and the trajectory of the ball and the movement of her own body. She’s so surprised at her own goal that it feels like she blacked out and is suddenly once again self-aware, with Tobin’s breath on the back of her neck and thirteen minutes left in the first half.  
  
.,.  
  
France doesn’t score again, and nobody comes back like Alex does.  
  
She’s glowing throughout the halftime pep talk and Tobin finds it distracting as all get-out, but does her best to hide it because she doesn’t want to get shit from anyone else. For a while into the second half, it feels like they’re going to keep it at a draw, and their momentum starts to falter- Tobin feels it in her own stride, in the sag of Abby’s shoulders when her shot goes wide- but Carli makes her appearance like some kind of Jersey phoenix, rocketing up the field with Tobin close on her heels to make it 3-2 and takes the praise she knows she deserves when the team piles on top of her.  
  
Tobin can see the change in Alex as soon as they’re up, like having the one-point advantage frees her up to make mistakes- which she understands, it’s something they’re all feeling- and knows without a shadow of a doubt that there’s a goal coming. She wonders if anyone else can feel it, or if it’s just her that notices determination crease Alex’s brow and push her stride. She doesn’t have too long to wonder before the French defense is on them like flies to honey, sticking, pushing, digging so hard that the three up top look as if they’re playing through molasses.  
  
This time when Alex’s shot floats just out of the goalie’s reach Tobin makes a beeline for her and makes sure she’s crushed on the inside of the pileup just because it’ll kill her if she doesn’t get a chance to see the look on Alex’s face.  
  
She’s seen it before, months ago, in their little LA house when the idea of being here was just that- an idea. She can hear it even over the roar of the crowd and her teammates: “London”, Alex mouths, and Tobin feels it to the bone.  
  
.,.  
  
Alex is the last on the bus and has a seat to herself, which she takes as an opportunity to stretch legs that are already numb from overuse and threatening to tighten up around her hamstrings. From a few rows behind her, she can hear Tobin and Cheney laughing pretty loudly, which she doesn’t understand until her phone explodes with texts, which contain somewhere between thirty and fifty pictures of the two of them, briefly interspersed by sexual jokes that she assumes are coming from Cheney.  
  
She takes a picture of her middle finger and sends it back, but she’s laughing when she does.  
  
After the first half it had felt like a close call, but now it feels like an underdog’s comeback. Late goals have a way of making Alex feel like they could win any game, despite the rational part of her that insists it’s a product of adrenaline. It’s only the first game, but there it is- her first Olympic game. Two goals.  
  
“I can do this,” she says into the phone, “I mean, I knew I could, but it’s just starting to hit me. I can _do_ this.”  
  
“You wouldn’t be there if you couldn’t, sweetheart.” Her mother sounds much further away than she  actually is, like the three miles between their hotels are three hundred, and Alex misses her with all the strength of her first time away at college. Mittsy’s her roommate, but her husband is here to take her out for dinner. She’s sure other people are doing other things and she doesn’t want to sound petulant and ask her parents to hang out with her, so she just says goodnight and hangs up the phone, her sense of accomplishment just the slightest bit dulled.   
  
Abby pokes her head in, presumably to look for Heather, and grins like it’s Alex she was looking for in the first place.   
  
“I know I’ve already said this, but damn, what a game. I mean, for your first Olympics.”  
“I could have done better,” Alex says, but there’s no weight behind it- she just doesn’t want Abby to think she’s getting cocky. The reaction she gets is nothing like she’s expecting it to be, since she’s only just now realizing predicting Abby is to predict the least predictable course of action: “That’s bullshit,” Abby says, clapping her on the shoulder, “take the praise and break it out again next time. Heather around?”  
  
“I think she went out,” Alex answers, and Abby shrugs in answer.   
  
“You got any plans?”  
  
It’s like being called up to play with the big kids all over again, being asked that question. She knows Abby’s asking because she’s being invited somewhere, and she thinks about it for a second- a night alone with Abby and Hope and Christie and Nicole, probably Carli, too, all older and more experienced than her.   
  
“Nope.”  
  
Tobin’s there, and that surprises her. What surprises her even more are the two people she’s squished between- Hope and Carli, who are hardly ever separated- but she swallows down whatever jealousy she might feel and Abby lets her into the booth first, taking the end seat because anywhere else is uncomfortable for her.   
  
Abby squeezes in so close that when she drops her hand from the table it hits Alex’s thigh before she moves it back to her own. It’s by accident, because Abby is clutzy and touchy like that, and of course Abby thinks nothing of it, but then Hope lifts her arm to rest it on the booth behind Tobin’s shoulders and Alex has to bite her cheek to keep from looking up. “Hey,” Abby says, oblivious as ever, “you guys wanna switch?”   
  
“We’re fine,” Alex says without thinking, because she doesn’t want them to be That Couple, and Hope laughs. “This way they can stare awkwardly at each other. I love it. Serious question though- for the sake of...settling an argument- are you guys actually dating, or just messing around?”  
  
“You don’t have to answer that,” Abby says, as if she’s suddenly remembered how to be an adult.  
  
“I don’t even like her,” Tobin says, and Alex kicks her so violently under the table that she doesn’t bother to aim and actually ends up hitting Abby, who yelps.  
  
“We’re dating,” she says, “I told you guys that before.”  
  
Christie extends her hand towards Hope with the grin of someone who has known they were right all along.  
  
“Pay up.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The game against Colombia is rough, but there's a sweet aftertaste.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is short, I know, I'm sorry, etc etc. Mostly moving the plot along!

Colombia is a game that’s played hard and fast and dirty.  
  
It starts when Alex intercepts a pass and sends one to Megan, over on the left. The defenders swarm around her, barely giving her space to pass at all, and then she does something completely unpredictable- just outside of the goal box, she shoots.  
  
It hits the upper right corner of the net and the crowd is screaming and it’s only thirty minutes in that Alex knows things are going to get harder before the game is won.   
  
Sometimes she really hates when she’s right.  
  
Abby goes down hard close to the end of the half. Alex sees it when it happens, just about, and she’s mid-stride when Abby hits the ground, but she doesn’t stop. They’ve all gone down and the first half isn’t even over- Abby is a target forward and it’s not surprising the the Colombian team is playing her especially rough- but then Megan goes down, too, and when Alex turns around again Abby _still_ isn’t up.  
  
The ref hasn’t seen. Alex can hear Megan call for her to stop play, but it takes a while, and for a moment she’s torn between the game happening at the other end of the field and Abby where she’s rolled onto her back, hands covering her face, breath coming fast. It’s not a tough decision; she’s by Abby’s side within seconds and only backs away once Abby waves her off.   
  
By the time the ref makes her way over, Alex can tell what’s happened. Abby’s holding her face, and not in the way you hold your face when something else hurts- an elbow must have caught her in the head as she made a break up the field. At least that’s what she thinks until the ref bends over Abby and asks what happens- and then Alex is pretty sure people halfway back into the stadium can hear Abby’s reply.  
  
“She punched me in the fucking head!”  
  
When Abby’s up and walking, Alex figures it’s safe to try to talk to her, but all she can do is say Abby’s name over and over until she gets an answer. It takes a while. And every single time Abby doesn’t answer, Alex feels her panic grow, and her /anger/ grow- anger at the ref for not calling a foul, and anger at the player who committed the foul, and anger at Abby for ignoring her.

  
“ _Abby!_  Talk to me, please.”  
“What? What, I’m fine.”  
  
‘Fine’, apparently, is synonymous with holding open your own eye so you can see the field. The rest of the team is there, scattered but supportive, and Alex breaks away to give herself a moment to breathe before she unhinges. There’s still too much of the game left to play for her to tap out just yet, no matter how badly she wants to.  
  
The game restarts and they’re barely a minute back into play when Abby is fouled again and Alex throws her hands in the air, about ready to bodyslam the _ref_ , but this time Abby comes out alright, on her hands and knees with Cheney’s arms around her middle pulling her back to her feet. The other woman is on the ground and Alex stews for a minute, glad for the foul that’s been called and in awe of the fact that Abby hasn’t taken it upon herself yet to slug the offender right in the face, because she’s pretty sure at least half the team is feeling that urge. She knows _she_  is.  
  
In stoppage time Kelley tackles the ball right from under one of the Colombian midfielders, but it’s not that easy. She’s up again, then down again, tripped by the player she’d played clean in another foul that makes Alex want to tear her hair out. She keeps her distance, mainly because she’s afraid she’ll do something stupid but partially because the ball is still in play, and watches as Megan goes to try to dig the ball out. There’s a set to her shoulders that tells Alex it’s less about the ball and more about Kelley, who’s still crouched on the ground, and Abby, trapping the Colombian players who’re attempting to swarm them.  
  
She’s right again- one of the Colombians who’s on her feet nudges at Kelley, bends over and tries to grab the ball from between Kelley’s knees. Kelley shoves her arm away, and the other woman- who has the clear advantage- shoves her back, warranting a full-body shove from Megan, who needs the ref’s call and Abby’s hand on her elbow to reel her in.  
  
There’s another shot, one that’s off of multiple headers and then Alex’s foot, which sinks into the net but gets called offsides, and with a flimsy lead of one point the entire team is restless, Megan and Alex especially.   
  
Pia notices. She always notices. Her speech is short, but she knows exactly what to say: “This is the American spirit; the fighting spirit. You can outfight anyone, so go out there and prove it.”  
  
.,.  
  
Tobin watches the game from the sidelines with more pent-up energy than she’s ever had in her life. It’s not the score that has her tapping her feet; it’s Alex, who has taken Pia’s talk so to heart that she and Abby might as well just be running around in American flags instead of jerseys. Alex’s renewed energy makes her a target, and she gets fouled what feels to Tobin like once every other minute for the first twenty minutes of the second half. There’s a rage in her, quiet but growing each time Alex falls and get up again, a rage that Tobin’s never really known before but one that doesn’t scare her. When Heather’s called off the field and she’s standing toes to the sideline, she knows she’ll need it if she’s going to go out there and make a difference.  
  
She gets fouled- pushed over her the ball and her own feet- and when she looks up, it’s Alex she sees, further up the field with her jaw clenched so hard that Tobin swears she can hear the teeth grinding from yards away. She gets the ball up to Abby, but by the time Abby’s on it she’s offsides, and the goal she scores is halfhearted because she knows it won’t count before the whistle even blows.   
  
Kelley’s the next to get close, but she’s blindsided by a Colombian defender and sprawls out, needing Tobin’s hand to pull herself back to her feet. They don’t say anything. They don’t have to- they know the stakes. Megan’s anger isn’t as quiet as Tobin’s and it’s obvious she’s still strung out from the first half when she fouls the Colombian captain and leads them into a free kick. Chasing the ball, Tobin’s pushed again, but this time she keeps her balance and refuses to turn around and see who it was. It doesn’t matter. She won’t let the anger channel itself at anyone specific, because she’s seen what that does, and she can’t afford to lose focus on the ball and the net and the game. Kelley, like Megan, has done exactly what Tobin won’t let herself do, and less than a minute since the last free kick there’s another when she sends a forward sprawling into the grass.  
  
They form a wall, and Tobin presses the back of her forearm into Kelley’s front, a gentle reminder that she’s not the only one on the field who’s feeling it, and it’s not down to her to change the game. They’re in this together, now more than ever. The shot goes wide and Hope collides with Cheney, but neither of them look any worse for the wear, barring Hope’s clear frustration. The next time Tobin gets a chance, she takes it without hesitation, finding Abby across the field and getting her clear service. There are defenders in the way, but it’s like Abby doesn’t even notice them- she shoots, leaving bodies in her wake, and hits the opposite post, giving them another point lead and heading right for the corner with Megan on her back.  
  
Carli’s the one to cement the lead with a nutmegged pass from Megan, and when she does Tobin breathes such a sigh of relief that she feels the air of 10 other women leave her lungs.  
  
.,.  
  
  
Alex is wound tight in the locker room after the game, even with the win under her belt, and Tobin knows why without having to ask. Alex didn’t score once in the ninety minutes she was on the field, and for her, for the Olympics, ninety minutes must feel like an eternity-long drought. Tobin steals the seat next to her on the bus and offers a headphone without offering any words, because they don’t need them.  
  
Two minutes into the ride Alex’s fingers knot with hers and she can feel the tension melt where they’re joined.  
  
.,.  
  
  
After the game and after their dinner (minus Abby, who is apparently being confined to her bed so that she’ll be alright to play the next game), Alex insists on dragging Tobin out for ice cream, following her phone’s directions to a hole-in-the-wall little shop that’s brimming with people. There’s no room to line up inside, so they wait out in the balmy air and Alex watches Tobin listen to the people talking around them.   
  
“I’m gonna pop in on Abby,” she decides, before she bothers to think about what she’ll order. Tobin doesn’t give her a hard time at all, but even that’s not as surprising as what she /does/ do: “We should get her something, too.” We. Like she’s going to go with Alex of her own accord and be alone with her and Abby even though that’s never worked out for them before. Tobin doesn’t seem to be too aware of what she’s just said, really, but Alex knows better: it’s easier for Tobin to do this than to explain what she’s trying to do. And that’s okay, except that Alex isn’t really _sure_  what Tobin’s trying to do this round. It’s Tobin that orders Abby’s ice cream, reminding Alex that those two have known each other longer than she’s known either of them.  
  
She must be staring, because as they leave Tobin glances over her shoulder with a mischievous quirk to her mouth and says, “What? I’m not allowed to like her, too?”  
  
.,.  
  
Tobin’s trying. Today’s game reminded her again of some of the reasons she likes Abby so much. Even with a black eye she carried- sometimes literally- the team to victory, with the kind of competitive spirit that could win a gold medal all on its own. Before Tobin and Alex had been dating, she and Abby had gotten along fine. That- and the fact that envy is a sin and she wants to be clean of it- is why she knows he has to try, for her sake as much as for Alex’s. It’s not like Abby really _likes_  Alex, anyway. At least she probably doesn’t. She’s just not aware of personal space and is naturally warm and smiley.  
  
She’s not half as smiley as usual when they get to her room, though. Even from the hallway Tobin knows that’s true; she can hear Sarah tell Abby to stop taking the ice off her eye before Alex even knocks on the door.   
  
.,.  
  
It’s Sarah who answers the door, and when she does Alex immediately feels like a jerk for not getting her anything from the ice cream place. She’d have given Sarah her chocolate caramel, but it’s long gone now. Sarah won’t mind, though; she smiles at the both of them like she’s genuinely happy to see them and Alex wonders how much she knows. Probably everything. Abby’s not good at keeping her mouth shut when it comes to Sarah.  
  
“Who is it?”   
  
Sarah turns a little in the doorway to look at Abby, sprawled out and taking up most of her queen-sized bed.   
  
“ _Stop_  taking the ice off of it, Abs.”  
“It’s cold.”  
“Of course it’s cold. It’s ice.”  
  
Tobin’s trying hard to hide a laugh in her shoulder, but Alex knows what she’s doing, and it makes _her_  want to laugh. Abby sighs and claps the icepack to her head again, and Sarah turns back to Tobin and Alex, opening the door the rest of the way.    
  
“If you’re too cold for ice cream I’ll take one for the team,” Tobin says, handing Abby the cup of Triple Chocolate Chunk, and Abby actually looks so pleasantly surprised that Alex laughs out loud. Sarah sits on the bed next to Abby, on the side where her eye and cheek are swollen, and takes the icepack out of her hand.  
  
“You guys are the best,” Abby sighs, through a mouthful of chocolate.  
“It’s not every day you get punched in the face,” Alex replies, and Sarah stiffens a little but her smile stays perfectly in place. Abby shrugs. “Sarah’s more upset about it than I am.”  
  
“They didn’t even call a foul.”  
“I’m a big girl. I can handle myself.”  
  
It starts to feel a little bit like they’ve walked in on a conversation that didn’t really stop, and Alex is uncomfortable but she can see that Tobin isn’t. Actually, Tobin’s not often uncomfortable in social situations, and Alex wishes she were more like that; more able to laugh off an awkward moment.  
  
“I couldn’t believe that goal,” Tobin says, effortlessly steering the conversation, “I can’t score half that pretty with both eyes open.”  
  
“I don’t know about that,” Abby says, and then she gives both of them- Tobin _and_ Alex- such a stupid toothy grin that Alex knows exactly what the joke is about and if she wasn’t already uncomfortable she would be. She wants to disappear into the floor.   
  
.,.  
  
“We should go,” Tobin says after a moment’s pause, and Sarah clears her throat, pressing the ice pack to Abby’s eye even though she flinches away from it, “if I don’t get Alex back before curfew Christie will have my head.”   
  
It’s a joke but only Sarah laughs like she gets it, and Tobin is overwhelmingly grateful for her presence in the room when she does.  
  
“Thanks for the ice cream,” Abby replies, but she’s pretty clearly confused. Alex hooks her pinkie with Tobin’s which she knows is supposed to mean ‘she didn’t mean it’, but she doesn’t get it until she turns to close the door behind them and sees a moment so tender she feels guilty for catching it.

Abby has one hand holding the cup of ice cream and the other holding her spoon, eyes downcast. Sarah leans in and gently presses her lips to Abby’s swollen eye, and  
Tobin never again questions whether Sarah has all of Abby’s heart.  
  
.,.  
  
“Thank you,” Alex says, when they pull up to her door. Tobin can hear Mitts moving around behind it, singing to herself along with some TV jingle, and she smiles, hands deep in her pockets.  
  
“Thank you for walking me to my door. And- and for buying Abby ice cream, even though you’re weirdly and irrationally jealous of her. You’re a good girlfriend.”  
  
Hearing Alex refer to her like that still makes Tobin swell a little with affection and pride, but she tries to cover it up with a joke, grasping for something charming.  
  
“I’m not jealous of her.”  
  
Charming doesn’t happen. Not with Alex.  
  
That doesn’t matter to Alex, though; she laughs all the same and leans in for a goodnight peck. Tonight, more than usual, she lingers, and Tobin swears she can taste the chocolate and the caramel on Alex’s breath. There’s something between them, then; a thread, a pulse, and not for the first time Tobin fights back the urge to tell Alex what she’s feeling. The thing is, she doesn’t want to do it here. A London hotel hallway is an awful place to tell someone you love them; probably right up there with a cemetery or a shopping mall.  
  
For right now it’s enough that she feels it.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The quarter and semi-final games bring a whole lot of change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a long-ass chapter and will hopefully be worth the wait because to be completely honest it was a /bitch/ to write lmao anyway ENJOY we're in the home stretch you guys!!!

They hold possession nearly the entire game against North Korea, but they can’t seem to break free fast enough to score. 

Alex tries. She’s itching for a goal, she’s itching for some way to prove herself again because she’s feeling the pressure of thousands of fans, but she can’t seem to get it. Abby gets her service that anyone in the world would be envious of, and she takes a left-footed shot instead of waiting until she’s in the thick of defenders with room for her right, and it almost goes in but doesn’t give her the satisfaction she needs.

There are yellow cards flying- first one of the North Koreans, then Cheney- and Alex knows that won’t stop anytime soon; they’re all playing rough and are evenly matched except for speed. Their speed as a team is what is supposed to set them apart here, and she knows that, and that, in part, is why she feels so slow.

Abby feeds her again, and she shoots again, off her left foot once more but too wide to do more than hit the post. When she makes eye contact with Abby after that shot, she doesn’t feel like she deserves the smile that’s flashed her way.

.,.

Tobin watches from the bench and doesn’t understand the frustration she sees in Alex’s posture at all. Alex is playing some of the most excellent soccer on the field, all sharp angles and clever passes- it’s not her fault her first shot was saved and her second was inches from a goal. Nobody can help that.

By now, though, Tobin- like anyone else- knows that doesn’t stop Alex from wanting to control it, wanting to hold chance in her hands and mold it the way she likes. That’s what makes her different- she runs against the grain of play as often as she can, and it keeps everyone opposite her guessing. And that’s what makes the difference, in the end.

There are two defenders on her when she does it, chipping a pass in to Abby that doesn’t look possible but worms its way between the legs of the fulllbacks and hits Abby at exactly the right time- it’s a left-footed shot that slips right under the keeper’s arm. 

It’s perfect. It has an air of effortless to it that’s astounding and at the same time really not surprising at all- and that’s what Abby and Alex look like, on the field together. Like it’s easy.

.,.

Tobin goes in at the half, but they don’t score again. Most of the rest of the game is played at midfield, but it’s hardly an even battle, and the North Koreans rarely make it far enough down the field to give Hope reason to back down from the edge of her box.

As soon as they’re into the locker room, Alex jumps on her, hugging so tight around her neck that Tobin lurches into her, off-balance. The stumbling forward forces her nose against Alex’s collarbone, and Tobin has to laugh at Alex’s enthusiasm.

“We’re in the quarterfinals!” she practically squeals, and that’s when Tobin realizes something kind of huge: Alex has no idea.

After the 2008 gold medal, getting to the quarterfinals feels like an unspoken expectation for her, and she knows it’s not her alone. Not getting to the quarterfinals was never an option to her- or to Lauren, or to Abby, or to Hope. 

She hopes Alex never finds out what that feels like.

.,.

They don’t see each other much that night because there are always people between them. They’ve been together long enough that Alex knows she shouldn’t mind too much, but really what she wants more than anything is alone time with the person who really _gets_ her, because trying to talk after a game like North Korea just exhausts her. She settles for watching Tobin’s smile at dinner and pretending that later she’ll get to fall asleep with that smile burned into memory.

She doesn’t. She stays awake with that smile burned into her memory, until she gives up and sends Tobin a text, knowing that her phone will be on vibrate and if she’s asleep nothing short of a hurricane will wake her.

.,.  
ALEX  
iMESSAGE

i can’t stop thinking about you

.,.  
TOBIN  
iMESSAGE

whoa  
romantic, baby horse :)  
.,.  
ALEX  
iMESSAGE

haha shut up  
.,.  
TOBIN  
iMESSAGE

i cant sneak out. bue’s a light sleeper and she’s closer to the door  
.,.  
ALEX  
iMESSAGE

its ok  
we shouldnt anyway i just wanted to talk to you i guess  
.,.  
TOBIN  
iMESSAGE

haha and tell me you cant stop thinking about me  
the usual  
.,.  
ALEX  
iMESSAGE

dont make fun of meeee  
.,.  
TOBIN  
iMESSAGE

i think its cute  
.,.

Alex rolls over and grins into her pillow, watching the little dots that indicate Tobin’s still typing. With three days between them and the next match, the weight is starting to lift- maybe it’s the dark, and nobody watching her, or maybe it’s just Tobin- and she feels like she can breathe again. The dots disappear, but nothing gets sent, and she furrows her brow when they reappear a few seconds later. It happens again, and then one more time before they disappear for good.

.,.  
ALEX  
iMESSAGE

what were you typing????

.,.  
TOBIN  
iMESSAGE

sorry  
im half asleep i think  
i wish you were here though

.,.  
ALEX  
iMESSAGE

here like there?  
.,.  
TOBIN  
iMESSAGE

here like in bed with me here  
.,.  
ALEX  
iMESSAGE

i dunno, my pillow’s way less bony...  
.,.

Tobin almost laughs, shaking her head, but the need to keep quiet- and the embarrassment at the number of times she had typed out “i love you” and decided against it- stops her. If she closes her eyes she can pretend Alex is there, that Bue’s soft and steady breathing is Alex’s a bed away, and that’s all it takes to bring her to the brink of sleep.

.,.  
TOBIN  
iMESSAGE

im gonna go to sleep, al  
or try anyway  
.,.  
ALEX  
iMESSAGE

yeah me too  
goodnight :)  
.,.

Alex waits until the little ‘delivered’ turns into a ‘Read 1:32 AM’, and then she scrolls through her Photo Album to the picture she always goes to. Kelley took it, earlier in the year- Alex is laughing and Tobin is looking at her, smiling at her, leaning with one arm against the table. 

She falls asleep smiling.

.,.

There are two days between them and the quarterfinal, and Pia surprises them with a trip out to Alnwick Castle. It’s about an hour’s bus ride in, and they fill that hour with bagels and Monop Deal, which Kelley watches from the row right behind them, occasionally shouting things like “sick!” and “roasted!” like she’s watching a sports event. It doesn’t help Alex’s competitiveness, but Tobin doesn’t mind letting her win- even if she knows she’s being gypped.

Alnwick is beautiful and being there is unreal. There’s a brief discussion, facilitated by Becky and Alex, of who would be in which house- and they all end up sorted, one way or another. Alex to Slytherin for her ambition and her strength. Kelley to Ravenclaw for her determination and cleverness. Abby to Gryffindor for her selflessness and patriotism. Amy to Hufflepuff for her compassion and steadfast resolve- the list goes on, until they’re huddled waiting for their tour guide and the fun begins in earnest.

The highlight of Tobin’s day is Kelley wiping out in the broom race, until Alex falls asleep on her shoulder during the bus ride back, their fingers intertwined, her hood up high over her head for warmth. Most of the bus is napping- Bue and Barnie are, in front of them, and Kelley is snoring softly behind them, and Tobin squeezes Alex’s fingers and can’t stop the words from leaving her lips- “I love you,” and it’s safe because Alex doesn’t hear.

.,.

The next day is a slow day in the gym and they don’t get out on the field for longer than 30 minutes- just enough to get a few touches on the ball, to keep them connected, but not enough to tire them out. Hope finds Tobin again, as they always seem to do in the gym, and they work in silence for a while before Hope stretches and bluntly breaks the silence.

“Does Abby scare you?”

Tobin blinks, her stride faltering for a second on the treadmill, and Hope hops back onto her own, nonplussed.

“I, uh- I wouldn’t want to go toe to toe with her on a good day,” Tobin replies, but even before Hope answers she knows that’s not the question. She just doesn’t really want to talk about it, or think about it for that matter, especially considering how well things have been going lately. Hope lets out a harsh breath that’s probably a laugh, shaking her head.

“That’s not what I meant. I meant, does she intimidate you? Just as a person?”  
“Should she?”

Hope runs for a while without saying anything, ponytail swinging, and Tobin has to hold onto the arms on the sides of her treadmill so that she can watch Hope’s facial expression and still stay on balance.

“Listen to me- Abby thinks about three things: the game, the food she eats, and her girlfriend.”  
“That’s not very nice.”  
“She wouldn’t disagree with me. The point that I’m trying to make here is that you can relax.”

Tobin hits 2 miles and slows to a fast walk, taking a moment to breathe before she answers Hope, who’s still going.

“I am perfectly relaxed.”  
“You’re a horrific liar, is what you are.”

Tobin laughs a little bit, but mostly she’s trying to deflect it.

“You should just talk to her about it.”  
“Maybe I will.”  
.,.

New Zealand is fast.

Tobin’s off immediately down the left, but her shot goes right into the keeper’s gloves. Early on there’s a free kick in too close for comfort that Hope flicks out of the way as if it’s a fly and not a ball. Nothing makes Alex’s blood jump until Kelley sends a ball so far up the left side that it slips past the New Zealand defense, or whatever straggling players left in the box could be considered their defense, and Alex hits her stride in a flat-out run that she only breaks out when she has to. She rushes right past the goalie, still to the left, and she forgets everything but her feet and the ball and the net.

Her left-footed shot is just wide.

She has to take a few seconds to get the breath back into her aching lungs, but it’s not long before her determination is back in its entirety, and she matches Megan step for step as she makes a break up the right side of the field. The defenders have left too much room for Megan /not/ to be dangerous, and she is- her pass to Alex is perfect. What’s not perfect is Alex’s timing, and her slide doesn’t reach the ball in time to make contact with anything but the post of the goal- she rolls over to see Abby, startled that the ball’s made it to her feet, whiff the ball past the left side of the net.

It’s her fault. She feels it when Abby runs her hands through her hair and blows air over her lips- the ball should never have made it all the way across. It should have been an easy goal.

.,.

Tobin can see the frustration set in for both Abby and Alex, but with Abby it’s gone sooner; she knows that she can’t afford to let it bog her down in a game like this where they have so much space up top for her to cover. Alex holds onto it longer, but where it ought to bog her down it sets her on fire, and Tobin can hardly keep up with it when Alex pulls back, takes a heartbeat, and then chips through New Zealand’s last defender on her to hit Abby with a pass so perfect that the goal she scores off of it looks like child’s play.

At half Alex doesn’t say anything, but for a moment they sit beside each other on the bench the way they used to months ago- when both of them yearned to be subbed in- with their knees just barely touching, taking sips of water and letting the balmy air stick to them worse than their own sweat. Abby wanders over to the bench, to them, but Tobin’s surprised when it’s not Alex she reaches for- Abby reaches down for _her_ , pulling her up with one hand into a half-hug. 

“You are kicking ass out there,” she says, and Tobin’s too surprised to do anything but grin and mutter a ‘thanks’.

Bindon tackles into Alex, and when she jumps clear for a moment Tobin thinks she’ll have made it, until she tumbles to the ground and stays there. There’s a long moment before Tobin realizes the keeper is sprawled out, too, but she doesn’t go over, knowing that she better not. Abby has it handled, bending over to speak to Alex, and it ends up taking longer than it ought to- Alex needs a moment to recover, and so does the keeper she’s kneed in the face.

She doesn’t stay on much longer, and when Sydney takes her place she looks ruffled and frustrated and above all disappointed. Tobin can’t let herself think about it.

.,.

Alex watches the rest of the game with a weight settling on her chest and shoulders that no amount of stretching can get rid of. She hasn’t scored in too long, and it feels like she’s letting people down. It feels like she’s letting _Abby_ down, because Abby expects her to become a legend in her turn, and Alex doesn’t feel like that’s even relatively a possibility. Maybe more than that she feels like she’s letting Tobin down- because she’s not playing like the girl Tobin believes in, she’s playing like a stranger. It kills her to think she might not be the talent they think she is. It kills her to think that the best she’ll ever be able to do is set up goals for someone else, and she knows that’s selfish, but in the end she’s frustrated enough that it doesn’t matter. She doesn’t want the goals for her. She wants the goals because she wants to prove the people who’ve supported her the longest right.

She’s tired of being a waste of time.

Syd cements their lead in the 87th, and Alex is up off the bench just as excited as anyone else, but she’s still wound tight by the time she squeezes onto the bus with Kelley- tight enough that Kelley can tell.

“You need to chill out,” she says, and Alex shakes her head. “I’m tense. I just need to..be less tense. That’s all.”

A moment later she almost regrets saying that, because Kelley nudges her with an elbow and says lowly, “I know who can help you with _that_ ,” but once Alex is done rolling her eyes at it she can’t stop thinking that Kelley might be right.

.,.  
ALEX  
iMESSAGE

hey so mittsy’s out for a date night with her hubby...  
.,.  
TOBIN  
iMESSAGE

u wanna go somewhere??  
.,.  
ALEX  
iMESSAGE

not really im kind of tired of pig bladder  
.,.  
TOBIN  
iMESSAGE

haha  
room service then  
we can get your little kiddie chicken fingers  
.,.  
ALEX  
iMESSAGE

and a glass of red wine  
so romantic  
.,.  
TOBIN  
iMESSAGE

hahahaha dont get fancy just for me  
.,.

 

She does, though. When Alex opens the door she has a glass of wine in her hand and she hands it over without mentioning it. Tobin doesn't drink often, but she doesn't mind it every once in a while, and she figured it'd be awkward to make Alex drink alone. Even if their shorts and t-shirts keep the whole thing from being too romantic. 

"Hi," Alex says, and it's like she's shy all of a sudden. It makes Tobin smile when she answers a muted "hey", but they don't kiss, they just stand there and grin at each other. 

“Where’s your drink?”

.,.

Alex avoids the question, blushing harder by the second. She knows it’s supposed to be easier than this to talk to her own _girlfriend_ but she just can’t seem to get the words out. Instead she clears her throat and Tobin takes a sip of the wine, looking about as comfortable as Alex feels _un_ comfortable.

“I, uh, ordered food, but they said it’d be like forty minutes.”

“Cool. You holding up okay?”

.,.

It’s an innocent question, so Tobin’s surprised when Alex takes it seriously, biting her lips together and shrugging in a way that says ‘definitely not’. She’s not one to conceded to weakness easily, and Tobin knows that, but they’ve been close for so long that when Alex says “I haven’t scored in a while,” she knows how much weight it holds.

She sets down her glass on the closest night table and wanders over to the dresser, where a roll of prewrap and some IcyHot take up what space Alex’s and Heather’s makeup bags haven’t already. She rips off a bit of the prewrap and weaves it between her fingers for a moment before she turns back to Alex, choosing her words as carefully as she can.

“It’s not all about scoring, you know.”  
“It’s not just that. I’m not playing right.”  
“You’re playing great. You’ve just been getting unlucky.”

Alex blushes all of a sudden and Tobin wraps the prewrap around one finger and pokes her with it.

“What? What’re you not saying?”  
“I’m...there’s other stuff I haven’t done in a while. We haven’t. Done in a while, I mean.”

Tobin furrows her brows and thinks hard on that for at least ten seconds before it dawns on her that Alex’s blush is one of embarrassment and not frustration, and when she gets it she outright laughs and ties the prewrap around her wrist so that she can use both her hands to grab Alex by the elastic of her shorts and drag her in for a kiss.

.,.

Alex thinks she might be in the clear until Tobin pulls back a little, her hands still between the waistbands of Alex’s shorts and underwear, and tilts her head up. She’s smiling so hard she might as well be laughing, and Alex flushes, reaching out to grab Tobin by the waist and keep her close.

“Did you seriously invite me over to your room, buy me a glass of wine, and try to seduce me?”

“Is that bad?”

Tobin laughs against Alex’s mouth and kisses her again instead of answering.

.,..

 

When the food comes and Alex answers the door, she answers it in the wrong shirt.

.,.

From the second the starting whistle blows Tobin knows it’s going to be a battle.

Tancredi tackles Cheney within the first minute of play, and Tobin figures if that’s any indication of the way the rest of this game will go, someone’s going to end up with a yellow if not a red. They keep their own, though, for at least the first few minutes, and a lot of that is down to Megan- if this is a battle, she’s leading the charge. 

Tobin follows.

Her teeth clack together when she’s hit hard along the right wing, but she struggles with it and frees the ball cleanly, ignoring the uproar from the crowd and looking up to find Alex open. Nothing comes of it, again and again, and Tobin swears she can hear Alex curse from halfway down the field.

When Christie and Tanc’s encounter ends up inadvertently giving Sinclair the chance she needs to put one away, Hope curses louder.

They struggle through the rest of the half and when the halftime whistle blows Tobin can see the tension building- between the teams, between her own teammates, between the players and the coaches- and for the first time in the tournament she worries for them.

“If I’m gonna score,” Alex says to her, under her breath as Pia gathers them to a huddle, “this would be the game to do it.”

.,.

Alex doesn’t stop running for half a second, and even though she and Abby are working seamlessly together there’s something frustrating keeping them from connecting anything that she knows can’t be chalked up just to the keeper. They need a goal to give them their momentum back, but she doesn’t know where to find it. The Canadian defense seems to know Abby well enough to keep her herded in, and Alex is frustrated by her isolation along the other wing until it starts to feel like she might as well not have anyone to pass to at all, no matter how much Abby tries to wrestle her way out of it.

Abby can’t really get physical with the defenders that surround her without risking a yellow and Alex hopes against hope that she’ll be able to remember that for the rest of the night, through the frustration of being flanked at every moment.

The momentum they need, predictably, comes from a corner kick. What’s unpredictable about it is the fact that the ball doesn’t even come close to anyone’s head- Megan’s curve is so perfect, so textbook, that it arcs right past Christine where she’s caught by surprise at the far corner. 

The goal is that much sweeter for the look on her face.

.,.

Tobin’s never been one to succumb to heckling, but she’s also never really had a problem with it until here and now, and when Alex’s pass just barely misses her, her blood boils until all she can hear is Herdman screaming at his players to shut her down. It’s the constant sound of his voice that grates her bad enough for her next foul to be an unignorable one, and when she gets up and dusts herself off she knows the ref is going to come for her before it even happens.

Her face burns with a combination of shame and impatience and anger and she has to take a long moment to tune the ref out and pray that God will let her patience hold for the next half an hour.

Sinclair has a flair for scoring against the run of play, and that’s how it happens when she gets her second; Tobin digs her fingernails into her palms until she’s afraid she’ll break skin and then settles for clenching her jaw. 

Barely two minutes later Tobin shouts herself out of breath when Megan comes back again, like a general, like a screaming banshee, like a savior and a martyr all at once. There’s no question the game is a full-on team versus team battle, but when Sinclair scores again less than two minutes after that last goal from Megan even Tobin can’t ignore that it feels personal.

.,.

Abby’s goal is so calm and collected that Alex feels like they’re in an alternate universe, but it’s a goal, and it leaves them level, and she lurches back into the game with renewed enthusiasm even as her muscles start to ache and her lungs start to fall perpetually short of full.

The fouls just get worse as the 90th approaches. Alex feels a surge of anger every time Tanc comes into view, and when the whistle blows for extra time she knows that things will only get messier.

She’s right. She really hates when she’s right.

Tanc fouls Kelley so hard that she stays down, head in her hands, and when Alex crosses the field to her side she sees Kelley for what she is- five foot five, muscle and bone, exhausted, bruised, and covered in grass stains. 

When she looks up and sees Tancredi watching them, it takes every ounce of her self control not to make her feel the hurt that Kelley’s feeling.

She notices the time on the scoreboard and takes a long breath, a breath so deep it makes her ribs ache, and when play resumes she loses every semblance of self-awareness other than the awareness of what her body can and will do. She has no name. She has no thought other than the thought that the ball needs to go into the net.

HAO makes a break for the right faster than she’s has ever seen anyone run before, and she’s in high gear, too, in the box within seconds with Abby on her left. 

The ball arcs through the air and everything is in perfect balance, too perfect for her to think about it when she launches herself into the air, and it’s close, she knows it’s going to be close and for a hairbreadth she thinks the whistle will blow before the ball even hits her, but then it _hits_ her and her balance is gone.

She flops onto her back but sits up fast enough to see the ball hit the back of the net and Abby rocket around with arms outspread in celebration. 

She doesn’t remember getting up. For a long time- for what feels like hours- she’s not sure if she’s laughing or sobbing, she just knows she’s out of breath, and Sydney hugs her but it takes her a second to let her own arms fall to reciprocate the hug.

4-3.

They came back. 

Abby is there, too. There are so many arms surrounding her that she can’t tell who is where, but she feels Abby’s face against her neck like she knows how numb Alex feels when she laughs or screams or cries, “I love you, I fucking love you.”

.,.

Tobin doesn’t realize she’s crying until she realizes that she can’t breathe, and Lauren’s hugging her so hard that she wouldn’t be able to breathe even if she _weren’t_ hysterically crying. Lauren’s laughing, and Tobin wrenches her arms out of the taller girl’s grip so that she can wrap them around her best friend’s neck and cling. Amy’s there, too, tucked up beside or between them, and they’re either jumping up and down or swaying side to side but it doesn’t matter either way because they’re together. They’re together and they’re going to the final Olympic match and Tobin chokes on her sobs until they turn into laughs, and by the time she notices Alex over Lauren’s shoulder she knows she has to stay six feet away or she’s going to do something stupid like kiss her in front of millions of people and ruin the night.

.,.

The locker room is a frenzy after that, clothes flying everywhere, towels snapping, Pinoe chanting Alex’s name at the top of her voice, and Tobin is endlessly entertained by it, standing in her undershirt on the fringes and watching it all happen. 

Alex catches her eye and pushes between Abby and Pinoe, who are both still yelling, to latch on to Tobin like she’s a life preserver. 

“You know you scored in the 123rd minute, right? As in, a minute after the infamous Brazil goal?”

Now Pinoe and Abby have gotten into a towel-snapping war, and Alex reaches up with both hands on Tobin’s face and kisses her right there in the crowded locker room.

Kelley whoops.

“Talk about scoring late!”

The words are on the tip of Tobin’s tongue again, just three. Abby’s attention is drawn by Kelley’s outburst and she moves too fast for Tobin to try to stop her, and then there’s the whip-end of a rat tail making contact with her backside and it’s war.

.,.

“Abby told me she loved me,” Alex says.

She and Tobin are on their backs on the bed closer to the windows overlooking the pool area, where music is already playing loudly enough to piss off anyone else on the floor who might be trying to sleep. There are shouts and laughter from the hallway, and Tobin turns her head but asks nothing, which Alex takes as her cue to continue.

“In the dogpile, after the goal.”

It’s funny to her, how Abby has so much emotion and so little filter, so she laughs- there’s never been anyone like Abby in her life, really, to show her what loud and proud really meant. It doesn’t even occur to her what the whole thing sounds like until Tobin says, softly, “Dang,” and the bed shifts under her weight as she sits up.

“What?”

Tobin looks down at her and there’s a smile in her eyes that she seems to stop at her mouth, like she’s holding something back when she waits almost a half a minute to answer. Alex is gauging the distance between them and wondering how to close it, but when Tobin speaks she loses track of everything else, like letting sand slip through her fingers.

“Just that I love you,” Tobin answers, with more self-assurance than she’s said anything in Alex’s memory; the smile that creeps onto Tobin’s face is the same that’s on her own, “and I’m kinda pissed that she said it first.”

“You do?”

She’s not incredulous, really, but she wants to hear it again, and the smile she’s smiling is so big that it hurts her face and her heart is in her throat when Tobin laughs and reaches over to touch her necklace, running her thumb over the locket and the cross and smiling at it before she answers and lifts her eyes again.

“Of course I do. I’m just not good at saying it first.”

Alex reaches up to grab Tobin’s hand, using that thread of connection to bring them together and slanting her lips across Tobin’s in a lazy kiss, a kiss that they have to break off to smile at each other. Their hands stay joined over Alex’s heart, and the whole thing is so perfectly cliche that Alex feels stupid just saying it: “I love you,” and then they’re both laughing harder than they have in weeks.


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gold-medal match makes Alex nervous and brings out something new in Tobin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my God this chapter was such a bitch to write I can't even talk about it ugh anyway here you go it's almost 4k words!! and there are I think 2 more left, maybe 3 depending on how I want to space things out. We're close!! Comments are, as always, appreciated, but mostly I want to thank all of you again for sticking with this for 15 chapters.

When Alex wakes the next day, she feels the strain of the semifinal in every single inch of her. Even her toes are sore, and when she gets up to change, she realizes that her neck is stiff, her pillow three feet from her bed. Mittsy’s already up, straightening her hair, and she seems to get it before Alex says a word: “Game hangover,” she nods seriously- “you need a coffee.”

It’s Kelley that Alex drags down the street, because hotel coffee just isn’t going to cut it and on their day off Tobin is unlikely to wake up before ten. Not that Kelley’s awake, but she’s conscious at least, even if she speaks in monosyllables until she has a hot Passion Tea in her hands.

“I feel like a bus ran over me,” Kelley says into the steam of her drink, and Alex shrugs a shoulder.

“Well, Tancredi did run over you. Like at least three times.”

“I think a bus would have been nicer about it.”

Alex laughs, but when she does it hurts her ribs and she winces. She’s about to take a sip of her coffee when Kelley breaks the silence again and she almost drops her cup, coming perilously close to spilling hot coffee all over her hands: “Did you ever get your ‘issue’ fixed?”

When she fumbles, Kelley laughs, then winces, then laughs some more, and Alex kicks her under the table until she stops, stifling her giggles in her marble poundcake. 

“You’re not even actually interested in my well-being,” Alex whines, finally taking a sip of blessed caffeine, “you just like to perv on me.”

“Not my fault. Someone has to feed the ring of 13-year-old boys obsessed with your sex life.”

Alex doesn’t answer because she’s too busy eating her croissant and ignoring Kelley as hard as she possibly can. 

.,.

“Hey.”

Alex startles but Kelley returns Tobin’s grin when she slides into the booth, forcing her to the wall. Her hot chocolate is just this side of scalding, but she keeps her hands on it because she’s still cold and wet from her shower. Alex knits her brow, and Tobin knows exactly the question that’s coming: “How are you _awake_? It’s like 8:30.”

“My girlfriend senses were tingling.”

“Wanky,” Kelley says, then immediately lifts her feet so that Alex’s kick misses them by inches. She can’t dodge the glare, though, and Tobin laughs at them, popping the lid off her cup to let it cool off and stealing a bite of Alex’s breakfast.

“I’m so sore.”

“Me, too. Everywhere.”

“Tanc spelled out ‘O Canada’ on my ribs with her elbows.”

“We need a jacuzzi,” Alex sighs, and Tobin reaches over to her right to try and steal some of Kelley’s poundcake. Kelley slaps her hand away but not before she gets a pinch and pops it into her mouth.

“You and Tobin could run a hot, steamy bath together,” Kelley suggests. Alex looks like she’s going to say something scathing, or like she wants _Tobin_ to say something scathing, but Tobin’s having too much fun to let Kelley’s joke fall short, so she just shrugs and offers, “I don’t think the bathtubs are big enough for that,” which earns her a laugh from Kelley and a glare from Alex.

 

.,.,.

That night Alex sits between Tobin and Kelley at dinner. Across from them, Abby steals a napkin and a pen from Hope’s purse and starts to doodle out a field, explaining how the Japanese usually play their midfield, and Alex is drawn in not because she cares about the Japanese midfield but because she loves it when Abby reminds everyone how smart she really is, under her layers and layers of brash and bold and funny. She has the whole thing figured out, practically down to the angles of incidence of where each pass should land, and she’s so serious about it that when the food comes and breaks into it Alex realizes that she’d completely forgotten where she was.

When she has a moment to think about it, confronted with her dinner and Abby’s sudden silence, it makes her panic.

She can’t even think about eating because she’s already feeling the stadium lights. The pressure of being there- in London, at the Olympics- had gotten so familiar that the gold medal match felt natural, and now that she's realizing there's a single day between her and the most important game she's ever played the panic comes all at once. 

They're expected to win the gold. Each and every one of them at that table expect to win tomorrow; they're not easily going to accept anything less. And she's no longer sure she can do it. 

She must look green, because Abby's staring at her.

"You okay?"

She clears her throat, fighting a wave of nausea. 

"Yeah. I'm- I'll be right back."

.,.

Tobin counts thirty seconds before she gets up to follow. Nobody's said a word about it, and Hope seems to be trying to redirect conversation, but Tobin knows better. 

The bathroom is a two-stall and the door doesn't lock. Tobin leans a little so she can see which one Alex is in, expecting shoes, but what she sees is that Alex is on her knees. The stall isn't locked, so she comes in and locks it behind her. 

Tobin doesn't say anything. For a moment, Alex doesn't, either. When she does she's even hoarser than usual, her voice echoing in the bowl because she refuses to lift her head even though she knows she isn't really going to be sick. 

"I can't do this."

“Do what? Dinner? I’ll go back with you.”

“No. The- all of it. The game.”

Tobin slides down to sit on the tile with her back against the stall. She tries to think back four years, but she knows their situations weren’t and aren’t the same. In 2008 she was reserve and she remembers being nervous but not for herself. In a way, it’s unfair to Alex that she’ll start the game and probably finish it. Not the way most people would look at it, but Tobin sees it. 

Pressure’s never sat with Alex the way it does with Abby.

“I know that’s what it feels like.” 

_Wow. Helpful._

“It’s a big thing, you know? And you have every right to be kinda freaked out.”

_Comfort. Any time now, Heath._

“But you shouldn’t feel like you need to carry the whole team. We’re a team. We carry each other.”

Alex sighs, sitting back on her heels. Some wisps of hair have come free from her ponytail; Tobin reaches out to tuck them behind her ear.

.,.

“You’ve gotta let the rest of us take some of the pressure, too, Baby Horse,” Tobin jokes, and the on-field nickname makes Alex smile even as her stomach churns, “we’re all afraid to mess up. Once you think about how there’s 18 of us and all of us are sharing the pressure, it doesn’t seem so bad, right?”

And it doesn’t. Alex reaches out to squeeze Tobin’s hand because the “thank you” dies on her lips, and she realizes with startling suddenness that the churn of her stomach is hunger. She rocks back onto her heels and pushes to her feet, pulling Tobin up with her and into a hug.

In her head they’ve already won.

.,.

The gold medal match amplifies everything. Those of them who are loud pre-game are louder, those of them who are nervous pre-game are antsier, and Tobin is quieter. 

She prays a little, but she doesn’t make a show of it. She never does; she’s never needed a church to do it, or a pew or a Bible or a set chunk of time. She prays to keep everyone safe, and she prays for Alex, nebulously and fervently. For nothing in particular- just for Alex. Just because she can, because Alex is holed up in her locker with her headphones on and her eyes closed like for all the world she could be asleep. Tobin knows she isn’t.

As always she’s the one to pull Alex out of the locker, but she lets her grip on Alex’s hand linger for a moment longer than she needs to. She doesn’t bother to say anything reassuring. She’d talked herself out last night anyway. They stand in the hallway, three people between them, and Tobin lets her narrow field of vision focus her. She can’t spend this game thinking about Alex or she’s not going to get anything done, so she tries to forget everything but the team and the field and the ball and the nets. No screaming fans. No gold medal. 

Eight minutes in she pushes down the left flank and gets a cross in to feet that just happen to belong to Alex. She doesn’t realize who it is she’s hit with the pass until the ball’s no longer hers, and by then Alex is already rushing the corner and Tobin’s pulling in closer to the goal, anticipating that Alex will cut back and pass into the box.

She does just that, to Abby, but Carli screams in out of nowhere and her header rockets past Fukumoto and just like that they have a one point lead before ten minutes are up. 

.....

Abby finds her after the half, as always, and they sit together for a moment to refuel, for once not speaking. It’s been a good game so far, even if they haven’t had the majority of possession, and Alex has settled into her skin- whenever she starts to feel the nerves she runs through the roster in her head and remembers she’s not alone- and knows that she can handle another half. Abby’s unnaturally quiet, though, taking in the stadium and the fans, and Alex nudges her with one knee to check in because she doesn’t want to be the first to speak.

Abby grins at her.

“They sound like bees,” she says. “The fans, at halftime. They always do. Like a hive of bees.”

Alex listens and Abby’s right. Still- “You are so weird sometimes.”

It’s barely a minute into the second half when Shannon fouls one of the Japanese players and leads them into a direct free kick. All Alex sees is that Hope saves it, for a moment, until she realizes that there are _three_ players on the ground- Hope has landed on top of Buehler and a Japanese striker whose timing had been just off.

Bue’s down and it scares her, especially because Abby and Hope stay with her, bent over, concerned enough for all of them. She’s up eventually, and they come to get her off the field for a drink- but she’s back on soon enough and play resumes full-force leaving Alex’s legs only slightly weaker than before. 

It’s not long before they hold possession again, and Megan hits a pass in to Carli who races up the middle of the field unassisted. She weaves between two defenders like they’re not even there, Abby flanking her right and Alex on her left, expecting a pass, but she shoots- with three defenders between her and the keeper, she digs in and send a shot with her left foot.

It’s the perfect shot to the back left post, literally textbook in it’s spin and it’s arc and the keeper jumps the right way but she’s just that half a second too late and it inches past her gloves.

Carli turns and Alex turns with her, the whole team going to the sidelines, and out of the corner of her eye Alex can see Hope clapping and smiling harder than anyone else.

.....

They’re all too smart to think the game’s over, even if they’re playing with a little more air in their lungs. Japan especially isn’t the team that’s going to roll over and take it, Tobin remembers, and she’s proven right when a persistent forward manages to get one in, sneaking it past Hope and just over Pearcie and leaving Hope with a look on her face that makes _Tobin_ want to apologize.

Instead she ups her aggression just enough to get called for two fouls within three minutes, and then, at Abby’s significant look, she pulls back again. They can’t lose. For Alex’s sake, if not for their collective sake, they have to win this. Abby racks up a yellow card after she nearly scores and Tobin makes eye contact with Alex in the seconds before the free kick. She’d like to be able to smile reassuringly or do something equally girlfriend-like, but all she can do is look for that split second before she and Abby are flanking a Japanese player and hoping this free kick doesn’t tie them up.

It doesn’t- in fact, it’s pretty awful- and Tobin can hear the crowd get louder with each passing second, each tick of the clock that brings them closer to the ninety. She’s about to pull the ball back and get it to Abby, if she can, when she gets double teamed and somehow ends up sliding a few feet from the impact, the wind knocked out of her. It’s the first time for a long time that they get a free kick, so it’s worth it, even when Lauren has to peel her up off the ground.

There’s two minutes added and those two minutes last forever. 

.,.

When she hears the final whistle blow it takes her a full ten seconds to realize what’s going on, and before she really gets it Abby’s on her, pushing her good-naturedly toward Carli, who’s already being accosted by Lauren. When it hits her she immediately starts crying, and she’s not the only one- Carli is, and she thinks Tobin is, too, when she gets a glimpse.

She watches, because she wants to remember every detail, even through her tears. She sees it when Christie finds Pia to hug her, and Carli and Sydney, and they’re handing out the ‘Greatness Has Been Found’ t-shirts. There’s American flags everywhere and she’s not sure where they came from but she grabs one anyway and hops the wall to find her parents and her sisters in the crowd, letting her mother wipe the tears off her face even as they turn into laughter.

.,.

Tobin half-climbs the final wall so that she can fit into Jeffrey’s arms, and her father’s holding her up so she can hug her sisters too, and she’s done crying but her mother isn’t. She lets them grab on to her for a while until her arms hurt, and then they let her go to join everyone else. She doesn’t put on the T-shirt yet, just wads it up in one hand and wanders off to where everyone’s starting to gather. She sees A-Rod find Alex on the other side of the clump, watches them jump up and down for a moment, and smiles even though they don’t see her.

She doesn’t mind watching.

Instead of keeping her attention on the team, though, she looks around at the stadium and the fans. There’s not a lot to see right away, because the stadium’s so big- all she can really see is the red white and blue, but it makes her heart swell anyway. Sometimes she forgets that they’re more than just a team- that they represent a country- but now isn’t one of those times.

She’s avoiding Alex for the same reason she avoided her at the semifinal- because she’s afraid to accidentally out them- but she can’t stay away for long, not while Alex is holding the flag over her head and skipping around with the biggest dumbest smile on her face. She jogs over on legs that are just now starting to feel numb with exertion and grabs Alex from behind.

“We’re number one!” Alex is screaming it and her voice is so hoarse that Tobin can hardly understand her, and Tobin repeats it without thinking about it, fisting her hands into the oversized t-shirt and jerking it back to forth. Alex pulls her in, and for a second Tobin could swear it’s for a kiss and goes in like it would be- but then she remembers the crowd and the dozens of cameras around them and redirects just in time to turn it into a hug. 

She’ll have plenty of time to kiss Alex later, with nobody watching. And she plans to.

.....

Alex is about to cry all over again, with Tobin in her arms. It’s like right then is when she starts to _really_ feel it all, the joy and the exhaustion and she’s just overwhelmed.

“I love you,” she says, and she spins Tobin around like in some kind of cartoon. Tobin’s gone after that, though, wandering off again, and if Alex didn’t know better she’d think there was something wrong. There isn’t, though- this is just how Tobin is. Quiet. She’s happy, just like anyone else, but in her own way. She’s just remembering to be thankful, and Alex is remembering to be thankful for her.

Abby grabs Tobin into a bear hug, and Tobin’s face disappears into the flag draped around her shoulders, and Alex can’t help but laugh.

..........

Hope’s the one to find her next. She grabs Tobin by the face and smacks a sloppy kiss to her forehead in full view of everyone- probably the most physical affection she’s shown _anyone_ besides Carli or Abby- and Tobin knows she has to look surprised because what happens left is an outburst of laughter.

“You look shellshocked,” Hope says, and Tobin laughs right back at her. 

“Aren’t we all, a little?”

“God, I hope so. You’d have to have a hell of an ego not to be.”

Amy and Lauren find her near the end, when everyone’s winding down and leaving the field, and she joins them for a moment, waving along with them to the fans that surround the tunnel entrance.

All the same, she ends up going alone- like she wants to- when she enters the tunnel. She might be walking alone, but she knows she isn’t. God’s with her, just like he’s been the whole time, and now more than ever is when she feels it. In the cool dark of the tunnel, feeling the ache in her feet and her ankles and her knees and her back, Tobin smiles.

.....

The entire locker room is a bigger mess than Alex has ever seen it.

At least half of them are in bras and underwear, and two or three of them are naked, and none of them are staying still long enough for anyone to figure out what’s going on. Someone pops champagne- Hope, it turns out- and she doesn’t hardly take a swig before she pours it over Abby’s head. Abby grabs the bottle back and returns the favor, and then Kelley’s grabbing Hope by the shoulder and licks the champagne off of Hope’s cheek like a dog, and everyone pauses for a second just to laugh.

They’re supposed to be getting ready for the ceremony, but it takes way longer than it needs to because there’s showers to be had and champagne to drink and Alex corners Tobin in one of the stalls to kiss the smile off of her face just because she can and nobody’s paying enough attention to notice.

At least that’s what she thinks.

“Gross,” Bue laughs when she throws back the curtain, “can’t you guys wait like two hours until the afterparty at least?”

.....

Not a lot of the champagne actually goes into anyone, so everybody’s still sober by the time they’re back out on the field in their nice jackets. Tobin is more excited for this part than anyone else, and she doesn’t stop bouncing on her toes until the Canadians start getting their medals; Alex can see her from down the line watching as if their angle allows them any view at all. They all clap, even Kelley, when Tanc gets her medal. It’s the right thing to do, bruises aside. It’s the spirit of the Olympics, for the night, anyway.

She hears Tobin yell “I love you, mom!” from four people away and laughs out loud at her because she doesn’t even wave like she’s supposed to. Alex picks the medal up off of her own chest to look at it, opening her mouth into a comic book grin, and Abby reaches out to touch her head. When Alex looks up over the medal she’s surprised by the smile Abby’s giving her, tight-lipped like she’s trying not to cry. 

They hand out the bouquets next. She doesn’t know what to do with hers; doesn’t expect them to be real. Abby sniffs hers and says hoarsely, “They smell good,” which sends Alex dissolving into giggles again, silenced only by the time all the bouquets are handed out and the cerenomy’s over.

.......

Tobin’s never been much of a party person, but if there’s one thing she doesn’t mind it’s being dragged around by Alex. She doesn’t drink, because she never does, but Alex manages half a beer before she gets distracted from it and pulls Tobin into the middle of the room to dance. They’re not the only ones dancing, and Tobi knows the swarth of bodies surrounding them will keep either of their families from seeing even it Alex gets bold and wants to /really/ dance, but she doesn’t expect for that to become a reality.

Alex loops an arm around her neck and they move together for a while as if there’s nothing in the world to worry about. Tobin wonders for a moment if that’s how Alex feels about it- like it’s not a big deal- and she’d look around to see whether anyone’s watching if she wasn’t too busy watching Alex’s face, taking in her smudged lip gloss and her tired, smiling eyes.

....

She’s not as drunk as she intended to get before the night was up. She’s not half as drunk as Hope is, or Sydney or Kelley- Kelley, who Christen is holding up with an arm around the waist and a good-natured smile- but she knows Tobin’s more sober than any of them.

That’s why she’s surprised when Tobin pulls her to the second set of elevators and punches the button for the roof.

They barely make it outside (past the signs that tell them in big block letters that they’re not allowed to be there) before Tobin’s kissing her, and even in the hot and humid night air Alex goosebumps. She’s overstimulated from the stupid amount of adrenaline she’s been feeling all day and all week, so when she slides her hands over Tobin’s shoulders and Tobin pulls her in closer by the waist she gasps a little and ruins the moment.

“I’ve wanted to do that all day,” Tobin says, grinning, and Alex can see her own lip gloss on Tobin’s lips in the light of the maintenance lamps.

“I wish you would.”

“Maybe I will, one day. Just, out of nowhere. In front of everyone.”

They both know it won’t happen, but it’s a nice thought either way. The next kiss is deeper and longer and turns into something more intimate, something that leaves them both panting a little for breath and weak in the knees, a warning to stop or relocate before things get messy.

.......

“Come on. I’ll walk you to your door.”


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the Olympics over, the challenges that come up start to hit a little closer to home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the second to last update and I just want to preemptively say thank you all so much for sticking with me and with this fic. This has been a real growing experience for me and for my writing (which I'm sure you can tell from reading it). The end of this is probably not what you're expecting, but hang in- after the last chapter I'll be posting an epilogue.

If Alex’s goal was the Olympics, she’s achieved and surpassed it by November.

Immediately- arguably, as soon as the semifinal ended- news anchors and companies and journalists clamored for her attention, for the rights to her name and her likeness and her body, and the only person blindsided by it is Alex herself. Tobin’s certainly not surprised at all, not after that goal, and for the first month or so it’s endearing that Alex _is_ so surprised. Like she thought she could achieve her goal on the field without getting attention from everyone else- like she could exist in a vacuum. If anyone could have done it, Hope would have been the one to discover how. It’s impossible.

By November it’s not endearing anymore. By November Tobin is wincing at every offer Alex takes (inwardly, remaining the ever-supportive girlfriend face to face). By November she’s more frustrated by Alex’s constant surprise and flattery whenever someone tells them they want her- to model their deodorant, or their tampons, or whatever- than she is endeared by it. It’s annoying.

And Alex is always gone.

........

She had never expected to be a _celebrity_.

The number of people who follow her on Twitter vastly outnumber the number of people she thinks she’s met in her life. People know her _name_ and sometimes, if she’s in a city where soccer is popular, like Portland, they know her face. There's something about that she can't deny she enjoys. There's something about going on the field and hearing her name from the stands that makes the experience better, in some ways- gives her something to fight for. There's more pressure but when it's a friendly that doesn't matter. 

The thing that she hates about it, more than anything else, is leaving Tobin behind. She can't tell if it's bothering Tobin, so she doesn't mention it because she doesn't want to make it a problem if it isn't, but there is _nothing_ that she likes about waking up miles from home and from the girl she loves. 

Just when she thinks she's done with the surprises, Tobin proves her wrong. 

When she gets home from New York, the house is empty. She looks for Tobin in the bedroom and the yard even though she can tell that nobody's home, and all she finds is a post-it that informs her that Tobin's at the supermarket. 

The furniture's rearranged, just a little. Just enough that Alex is knocking her knees and noticing it. She can smell the tea Tobin must have made before she left and there's a rug she doesn't remember and she feels like a stranger up until the second Tobin walks through the door, bags in her arms. 

"Hey. Did you catch an earlier flight?"

"No," Alex answers, suspicious enough to glance back over at the post-it, "do you need help with the bags?"

"I'm good."

But she doesn't look it. She looks like she's upset about something, and she's avoiding Alex in favor of putting groceries away even though its been a week since they were together, and the awkwardness grows until Alex takes it upon herself to stand between Tobin and the groceries and command her attention. 

........

Alex kisses her, holding her by the hips. It's not a hello kiss, it's something else, and even though she's tried to hide her agitation she can tell now that Alex has seen right through her. 

"Talk to me."

"The eggs gotta go in the fridge," she tries, avoiding eye contact. 

"Tobin."

She should have known better than to try and blow it off- Alex is perceptive- and she gives up all at once, wrapping her arms around Alex's neck and hugging her tightly. 

"I missed you," she admits, and she refuses to pull back from the hug until the urge to cry has completely passed. Alex tucks her chin against Tobin's shoulder and sways them a little, and Tobin closes her eyes. 

"You're always gone."

"I'm here now."

When she thinks about that it makes her realize that's what matters, in the long run- not the eggs, not the last few hours- and she pulls back to frame Alex's face in her hands and kiss those words off of her lips. Something swells between them, the same something beautiful that's been there all along, and it's clear that Alex feels it too because her arms wind tight around Tobin's waist and they're clutching at each other like its the first time and the last time. 

Tobin jumps, knowing Alex will catch her.

.........

They end up toward the couch without having to part, Tobin with her legs around Alex's waist and one hand in Alex's hair. Tobin doesn't weigh much, so it isn't difficult to carry her, and Alex lowers her to the couch without trouble, hovering over her and between her knees. 

Alex sits up, pulling her shirt up over her head, and Tobin locks her knees at Alex's hips, leans up, and kisses her again. They've shifted now so that all of Alex's weight rests on her knees and Tobin is using her grip on Alex to stay sitting up; when Tobin breaks the kiss to nip at Alex's collarbone Alex tugs at Tobin's shirt, overheated and suddenly feeling the frenzy that only a week and miles and miles of distance can cause. 

Usually Alex would insist on taking things slow, and she knows Tobin would, too, but she can't stop trying to get Tobin closer. She manages to get the shirt off, digging her fingers into Tobin's shoulderblades and wishing she could crawl right under her skin and _stay_ there, and all the things she can't make herself say ball up in her throat when she pushes Tobin back into the couch cushions and rocks her hips forward. 

Tobin’s breath hitches, and Alex repeats, kissing her way along Tobin’s neck and scraping her teeth over Tobin’s pulse point, pushing to hear something, her free hand sliding up Tobin’s side. It works- Tobin, usually close to silent, turns her head and muffles a groan into one of the couch pillows. 

.....

“I miss you just as much as you miss me,” Alex mutters against her neck, and even like this, with one of Alex’s hands reaching between them and into the front of her shorts, Tobin can’t believe her.

She wants to, though. She wants, to, and that’s why she chucks her shorts away and grabs Alex by the wrist, guiding her and gritting her teeth into another groan when she gets what she’s asking for. Alex likes this, she knows; likes being in control and likes when she’s vocal about how she feels, and this isn’t about _her_ so she gives Alex all she wants- moans again when Alex crooks a finger, this time without bothering to muffle it, smooths the hair away from Alex’s neck and rocks her hips up in rhythm and wishes she could make this good enough for Alex to stay.

......

Tobin puts the eggs away, puts on Alex’s shirt (hers is already taken) and grabs a throw blanket all within a minute. She's back with an arm looped around Alex's waist before Alex can even miss her warmth, really, and for a good while they don't speak. The couch is narrow enough that for them to share it means Tobin resting half on top of Alex, anchoring her. After a while their breathing syncs up and Alex can feel herself drifting off, lulled by the security of being home and the comfort of Tobin's solid reality. 

She blinks sleepily when Tobin leans up on one elbow and looks at her, unable and unwilling to analyze it.

“When do you leave again?”

It takes her a minute to figure out what day it is, and then to remember her schedule, and by the time she answers Tobin’s already picking at the threads of her own shirt where it hits Alex’s midsection. It’s short on her but she thinks she’d like to keep it the next time she goes- just to have something of Tobin’s with her.

“Two weeks. Seattle.”

Tobin nods. Alex reaches out and twists a strand of Tobin’s hair around one finger, and something occurs to her that’s never occurred to her before.

“You should come with me.”

“Wouldn’t that be kind of suspicious, if we were both seen in Seattle together?”

Alex doesn’t speak for a moment because she’s not sure how to word it or how Tobin will take it if and when she figures it out. She lets go of the strand of hair and sighs a little, opting for eye contact this time so that Tobin knows she’s serious.

“Not if we come out.”

.........

“What?”

She’s not sure she’s ever felt so many conflicting emotions at once in her life. Mostly she’s confused so that’s the emotion she sticks with, because the sadness doesn’t make sense. Alex shrugs a little like what she’s said isn’t half as big of a deal as they both know it is.

“We could just come out. If we did then you could come with me wherever, whenever, and... and we wouldn’t have to miss each other anymore.”

She doesn’t even have to think about it. She doesn’t _let_ herself think about it, because if she does she’ll want it and if she lets herself want it it’ll break her.

“No.”

Alex’s face falls.

“No, I mean- we can’t, Alex. You have a career. You’re basically a celebrity.”

“So what? Why can’t I be a celebrity with a girlfriend?”

For a heartbeat Tobin believes it’s really that simple, really truly believes that they could make some announcement and just go on with their lives like normal. It’s a second too long. She squeezes her eyes shut.

“It’s not that easy. Please don’t pretend it’s that easy. You’d- people would stop giving you offers. You’d probably get hate mail.”

“I don’t care,” Alex insists, brazen, and Tobin shakes her head, sitting up completely and forcing Alex too, too, for lack of space.

“I do. I’m not gonna let you just throw your career away.”

“It’s _my_ career,” Alex points out, “I don’t care what everyone else thinks.”

“Everyone else is a lot of people. Everyone else includes our families.”

“Mine won’t care.”

Tobin wants to say that hers will but that’s not the argument they’re having so she reroutes and avoids the topic completely, reaching for her shorts. Alex reaches for Tobin’s wrist and pulls her back to the couch, and the concern in her eyes is toxic. Tobin knows she’s lost her leverage, and she can sense that the direction this is going will be anything _but_ helpful, so she does the only thing she can think to do: she gives up.

“Let’s wait until press around you calms down and talk about it in a few months.”

She hopes that by then it’ll be a moot point and Alex will understand the weight of what she’s suggesting. 

Tobin may not like Alex being gone- but she likes the idea of being the reason for Alex’s fall from grace even less. 

...............

Alex drops the eight slips of paper into Tobin’s Nets hat and shakes it, careful not to spill it. Tobin sits cross-legged on the bed and watches, and the completely impassive look on her face is almost comical. 

“Pick.”

Alex offers the hat. Tobin sticks her hand in and draws a folded slip. They make eye contact breifly, Tobin opens the paper, then grins.

“Sky Blue.”

“Okay, so that’s choice number three.”

Tobin takes the hat and the grin stays; the fact that her hometown team is even a choice has made this whole thing easier for her and her excitement is infectious. Alex feels a flutter of nervousness when she reaches into the hat, but she grabs the first piece of paper she hits.

“Portland Thorns.”

“So that’s two. You pick the last one.”

“But I just went.”

“Yeah, but I got Jersey on my first try, so...”

Alex clears her throat and sticks her hand back in the hat, but this time she picks the third piece she touches instead of the first. When she pulls it out she hesitates to open it, and her hesitation is enough to clue Tobin in on her nervousness.

“I’ll open it if you want.”

She knows exactly what to say, as usual; Alex wonders about their conversation when she came home a week ago and decides it’s best not to dwell on it. Especially not now, considering that they’re trying to plan their future. She nods, handing the paper over, and Tobin opens it without any hesitation at all.

“WNY Flash.”

Alex groans.

“We won’t get put there, Abby will get the Flash and they’d never allocate us together.”

“So we don’t list it. We’ll list somewhere else. Pick another.”

“No, we can list it, it’s just, we’ll get our second choice.”

“That’s Portland.”

There’s a long moment where Alex considers this, eyes fixed on the Portland piece of paper. Portland would be the place she would choose to go, other than Seattle. Of their three that’s the team she’ll lean toward, because it’s closest to her family, and because she considers the West Coast her home. But Sky Blue is less than thirty miles from Tobin’s family, from where she grew up- and Alex can’t bring herself to ask Tobin not to choose that.

“We don’t have to choose the same team,” she blurts, “we can go to different teams. We could do long distance.”

“Do you _want_ us to go to different teams?”

........

For a moment Tobin panics and imagines that Alex is suggesting they split up as a delayed reaction to last week’s argument. She imagines herself all the way into a worst-case breakup scenario before Alex speaks again and makes her more relieved than she can ever remember feeling in her life.

“It’s just, you could put Sky Blue first.”

“We drew it as third,” she answers, emphasizing the ‘we’ and overturning the hat so that she can use it to whack Alex.

“Yeah, but you could put it first and go home.”

That’s the kicker. Tobin takes the hat back and puts it on her head, skewed to one side, but she doesn’t bother righting it. Instead she reaches for Alex by her hands and pulls her until she’s standing right at the foot of the bed.

One by one, Tobin crumples up the pieces of paper, until she hits Portland. That one she folds, then presses into Alex’s palm. She leans down and kisses it- the paper, and Alex’s hand- and when she looks up, there’s a kind of awe in Alex’s face she’s never seen before.

“I _am_ home.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been a long time coming, and if either of them thought about it for long enough to notice they'd agree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. _Wow_. Seventeen chatpers ago I never thought this would go on so long. I had no idea what form this would take; my writing style was vastly different, and I wasn't writing alone. Here we are at the end and all I can say is that I've learned so much throughout this process. I want to thank all of you for following this, for being supportive and for enjoying this at least as much as I enjoy writing it. There's an epilogue after this chapter- it's not over yet- but this is the final full chapter.
> 
> ...try not to be too mean about it

When they both get allocated to Portland Alex feels a weight lift from her shoulders bigger than the weight of the gold medal match.

The threat- no matter how small- of being separated for good had been eating at her more than she realized. So much, in fact, that when they do get allocated together all she can think about is what would have happened if Tobin had taken her suggestion and put Sky Blue as her second choice.

Being without Tobin isn’t something she wants to do, and for at least a week after the allocation, as they start to pack up their things and look for a place in Portland, Alex struggles to decide how best to show her that.

That’s how she comes up with the idea of taking Tobin east.

.,.

Tobin gets the offer from PSG over email. It seems so informal and unreal, because she hasn’t met anyone in person yet, and every other time she’s signed with someone she’s signed on paper. Not that she’s signing yet. Just that the offer itself seems so bizarre, that she has the chance to split from the US and go play for another country, learn their style of play...it’s something that happens to players like Megan. Not her.

They’re at Alex’s parents’ place in Diamond Bar when the formal offer is made. Alex is asleep when it happens, curled up next to Tobin at two in the morning with the movie they were watching long-forgotten, her cheek resting on Tobin’s shoulder. The trip’s supposed to make up for how gone Alex has been the past few months, and it’s doing the trick, little by little. They’ve shifted back into being a real couple again and Tobin is reminded of what it’s like to live with the person she loves.

Just in time to be given an offer to move.

For a moment she considers waking Alex up, but she knows she doesn’t have to make a decision right away, so she closes the laptop and puts it away, trying to move as little as she possibly can so that Alex isn’t jostled. She fails, though; Alex wakes up a little, blinks slowly, and smiles, looping an arm around Tobin’s waist and curling closer. Tobin tucks some of Alex’s hair behind one ear and kisses her on the forehead, and then on the nose.

“M’love you,” Alex murmurs, and even half-asleep she says it with all the seriousness in the world. 

.,.

When they wake up, Alex can see that Tobin is far away, and it scares her. She’s afraid of it when Tobin thinks, nowadays. She’s afraid that Tobin might be thinking herself into a corner of her mind that she can’t reach, so she does what she can to try and bring Tobin back into the present.

That means her hand sliding under Tobin’s shirt, with no regard for what’s happening downstairs. It’s not that she’s shameless, exactly, she just knows that nobody’s going to come upstairs for at least another half an hour, and Tobin is more important.

Tobin shifts a little, and then when Alex’s index finger dips into her belly button she squeaks and reaches for Alex’s wrist.

“Your parents.”

“If you can’t smell french toast yet, they’re not leaving the kitchen.”

Alex doesn’t let Tobin’s grip on her wrist stop her. She trails her fingertips over one rib,  
pressing her smile into Tobin’s neck, and waits until the muscles completely relax under her touch before she slides up. Tobin doesn’t wear a bra in her sleep and she’s not expecting lex to touch her _there_ so she outright yelps, and Alex reaches her other hand up to cover Tobin’s mouth, laughing quietly.

Tobin says something muffled against Alex’s palm, but she lets go of Alex’s wrist so it can’t possibly be a no. Tobin lets her touch for a moment or two, breathing sporadically, and then she reaches down under the covers to rest her hands at Alex’s hips in warning.

“Alex, your- your sister.”

Jeri’s got the room down the hall, a few doors down, but it’s 8:30 in the morning and there’s no way she’s awake. That and Tobin is already so naturally quiet when they’re intimate that Alex can’t imagine that she’ll need to worry about it.

“We won’t wake her up.”

But she’s surprised when Tobin’s _not_ as quiet as usual. Alex is surprised at the breathless little moan that leaves Tobin’s lips when she rolls to straddle her, before they’ve even done anything yet; surprised at the way Tobin’s hands slide over her hips, shaking, like they haven’t done this in forever. She thinks the moan is a fluke until she leans down and rolls her hips forward, experimentally, and finds that it _wasn’t_ \- it’s like as soon as there’s pressure to be quiet, Tobin can’t be.

And that is endlessly entertaining.

She’d never realized what was missing until now, but having Tobin vocal is a whole new thing that she wishes they had time to really explore. She’s just about to bring her teeth down on Tobin’s lower lip when there’s a knock at the door and she rolls off to her side of the bed, startled, blushing. 

Jeri opens the door.

She suspects nothing. It’s pretty obvious, because her reaction is nonplussed: “Oh good, you guys are awake. Breakfast is ready,” and just like that she’s gone.

.,.

The offer eats at her for the whole day.

Alex is happy here, showing her around the town where she grew up. Diamond Bar isn’t what Tobin expected, really. For one thing it’s not on the coast, which surprises her because something about Alex always seems so beachy. It’s smaller than she expected, too, and people there know who Alex is beyond just her presence on the field. They know her as helpful and pleasant. They know her as one of their own.

It makes Tobin ache to think of leaving Alex behind, but the more she thinks about it the more she realizes how stupid she would be not to. Alex has a steady spot as a starter now, a dependable spot- maybe more dependable than Abby, a few years from now. She’s proven herself and Tobin knows she has to do the same if she wants to stay on the roster as anything other than a sub, and even though Portland is a good opportunity, PSG is better- without Christine and Alex to get lost behind, she has a better chance ot making a difference, and she knows that.

She just doesn’t know how to say it.

They eat lunch on a lake near a park that Tobin doesn’t catch the name of. She’s not paying attention to much other than Alex. There’s plenty to pay attention to- the way the light plays off of Alex’s hair, where her ponytail is slung over her shoulder. Her hands where she shreds at the paper napkin in front of her. The way she talks about the town, and the people in it. Something about knowing she’s on the cusp of moving across an ocean is making Tobin fall in love all over again, and it hurts just as much as it forces a smile onto her face despite how hard she tries to hide it.

“What?”

Alex catches it. Alex catches everything. Tobin shrugs, hooking their ankles together under the table.

“Nothing. You’re cute when you smile.”

.,.

Alex can tell that Tobin is still far away, but that’s not what bothers her. What bothers her is the deja vu she gets from it- how much it reminds her of the way Tobin had been before their last fight, no matter how short-lived the fight itself had been- and how that deja vu makes her feel, like Tobin is sand slipping through her fingers. 

She doesn’t like to lose. 

Tobin’s too quiet when they go for a run after dinner, so Alex nudges her repeatedly with her shoulder and waits til one earbud is out to make her request- “Race you back?”

They do, jostling and laughing, but it still feels inexplicably as if Tobin is humoring her. After that much of a workout they both need a shower, and although Alex usually takes the first, this time she pulls Tobin into the bathroom with her. The doors are locked, and there’s no way on earth that anyone in the house is going to suspect anything out of the ordinary, but she still gets a thrill pressing Tobin against her childhood sink and kissing the surprise off of her lips.

“We’ll conserve water if we shower together,” she says, knowing Tobin’s just going to laugh at her, but wanting that laugh more than anything.

She gets the laugh. And, to her pleasant surprise, Tobin doesn’t leave the bathroom right away when she turns to the mirror and pulls her shirt up over her head.

.,.

“I got an offer.”

“Another one?”

Alex doesn’t here the gravity of the situation in her voice, but it’s because she’s not looking for it, and Tobin doesn’t know how to fix it. She waits until Alex turns around, until the shower fills the bathroom with steam. Alex is reaching to unclasp her bra when Tobin stops her, reaching out with one hand for Alex’s wrist.

“Alex, PSG wants me.”

For what feels like forever there’s no answer. The mirror is fogged up, but that’s where Alex looks at her, like making eye contact through reflective glass will make it all hurt less, and she asks even though Tobin knows she knows the answer: “Paris?”

“Yeah.”

Tobin slides her fingers down Alex’s wrist, looking for fingers to intertwine with, but Alex pulls her hand away and reaches up to let her hair down, dropping her eyes from the mirror. 

“That’s great,” she says, but her shoulders rise and tense and her voice is high with the strain of lying. If she wanted to, Tobin could leave it there; let Alex lie and bury the pain and pretend like this isn’t a big moment or a big decision, but that feels like cheating and they’ve been together almost a year, so she tries again.

.,.

“Alex.”

She should have known it wouldn’t stop there. Even if she needs it to, even if she needs a half hour to think about it, even if Tobin hasn’t told her about any decision yet, Tobin’s not going to leave it, so Alex straightens her spine and turns around with the mirror at her back and meets Tobin’s gaze as evenly as she can. 

“That’s great, Tobin. They’re a big deal, it’s a really good sign that they want you.”

Tobin doesn’t answer, and that’s when Alex knows she’ll take the contract, and her half-a-second composure crumples all at once.

“You already signed with Portland,” she says. There’s an accusation in it that she’s surprised at- surprised that she means it. Tobin’s surprised, too, Alex can see it in the way her lips part when she recoils a little. 

“PSG’s season ends in May,” she offers in defense, and Alex shoots back, “Ours starts in April.”

She takes a breath and backpedals, shaking her head, mostly at herself. She tries to put herself in Tobin’s shoes for a moment, but it doesn’t help- she can’t imagine signing a contract that would take her an ocean away. It’s hard enough for her to be a few states away. Tobin is her home now, and her initial panic has waned to be replaced by the deep-seated kind that makes her feel like her whole life is being ripped up by the roots.

“You’re leaving,” she says, and it’s not a question, it’s still an accusation even though she’s trying her hardest not to start a fight. Tobin sets her jaw, though, and she doesn’t take it in stride like she usually would, doesn’t turn the other cheek. Alex isn’t expecting it when it comes.

“You leave me all the time. You left me months ago.”

.,.

She doesn’t realize how true it is until it’s out of her mouth, and then she realizes how close she is to crying and takes in a gasping breath so that she won’t. It works, because it hurts her throat, but Alex reaches for her anyway as if by instinct and barely catches herself in time.

“I didn’t- not like this, Tobin.”

She’s hit a roadblock, Tobin can tell because she stutters a little, and Alex being tongue-tied gives Tobin the freedom to say the things she’s been trying not to say for weeks.

“I can’t keep living in your shadow, Alex, I know you don’t mean for it to be like that but I- you’re famous. You’re _Alex Morgan_ , you’re a name now and people know you and people want you and people are finally falling in love with you like I did forever ago, and that’s wonderful. But it’s not my life.”

This time when Alex reaches for her she reaches all the way, fisting a hand into Tobin’s shirt like she’s afraid at any moment Tobin will run from her.

“I didn’t ask for it. You know I didn’t ask for it, I’d choose you over all those stupid photoshoots and interviews any day. You _have_ to know that.”

“But you can’t. And you shouldn’t have to.”

Alex looks at her her, uncomprehending, like she’s searching for something that Tobin’s not saying. When she doesn’t get anything else she sags a little, letting the front of Tobin’s shirt go, crumpled from where she clung to it. 

“You’re really going?”

“I have to. For me. It’s only a few months, but there’s so much to learn over there, and...there’s a lot of competition for me. You know what it’s like. You remember. I can’t keep doing what I’ve always done if I want to get something new.”

.,.

It’s ‘something new’ that sticks in her head and brings the tears, that surprises her into a kind of dry half-sob, but her parents are downstairs and she’s half naked with the shower running and she won’t let herself cry over Tobin until she’s good and gone because crying is giving up.

“Have you signed?”

“Not yet.”

Well, do it. Go. You’re right.”

“You know, this is kind of hypocritical of you considering that a while ago you were telling me to move back to Jersey.”

Alex knows her mouth has fallen open and doesn’t even bother to hide her shock. Tobin has never spoken to her like this, but the worst part is that she has no right to be angry and she knows it. Because Tobin is right.

She still fights it.

“This is different,” she insists, still fighting back tears. Tobin crosses her arms.

“The only difference I see is that Sky Blue was your idea and Paris is mine.”

She’s heard Tobin angry before but it’s never been directed at her, and what makes it worse is that she knows she’s wrong: Tobin has been happy for her, for every offer she’s gotten, for every interview and every goal and every step she’s ever taken on the field. 

But she’s not Tobin. 

“I know,” she says, eventually. “I’m sorry. You deserve better.”

Tobin softens, and this time she’s the one to reach out, and Alex doesn’t shrug her off.

“Alex.”

“I mean, you deserve better than what you have right now. And that includes me, I- you’ve been wonderful to me and I’m selfish and I don’t deserve you, and I certainly don’t deserve the right to ask you to say.”

“Stop making this about you,” Tobin says, and her voice is level but it hurts Alex worse than anything that could have been yelled, “because it’s not about you. I’m not taking this offer to run away from you. And I’m not taking it because I think I deserve better than you and expect some crazy French girl to sweep me off my feet.”

“But you _do_ deserve better than me,” Alex says, miserably.

“It’s not about what I deserve, either. It’s a job.”

....

Alex doesn’t answer her. There isn’t really a reply to that, which was the point. She struggles with it for a moment, like she wants to answer, but instead of trying to talk again she reaches out and takes Tobin’s face in her hands to kiss her.

It’s late, and her parents might be asleep but Tobin knows that Jeri can’t be, but if Alex doesn’t care then she doesn’t either. Not anymore- not now that it feels like a goodbye, the way Alex cradles her face and pulls her close so that Tobin can feel the damp warmth of Alex’s upper body and the steam of the shower through her tank top.

She doesn’t want to say goodbye, but she knows better than to ask Alex to wait for her, especially after tonight. She’d like to think she has the shame and decency to fend Alex off, but she doesn’t when she thinks about the months she’s about to spend in the cold without her. She lets Alex undress her, and watches Alex finish undressing herself with the intention of preserving it all in her memory: every dip and hollow, every flex of muscle, every strand of hair. It won’t be good enough but it’ll be something, at least.

Alex pulls Tobin into the shower and there against the glass wall they kiss and kiss until the steam and water and proximity force them apart to breathe, and Tobin could swear that Alex is crying but the water keeps her from being absolutely positive. 

It’s the first time Alex hides from her.

.,.

Tobin waits to sign until they’re back home and Alex wishes she hadn’t.

The longer it dragged out the more she came to dread it, and when it happens it feels like she’s in line for a guillotine. She tries to at least be neutral in the face of it- a smile is out of the question- but she knows that Tobin sees right through her. Part of it is over the phone, and Tobin leaves it on speakerphone so that everything is out in the open. 

When she hangs up Alex knows all that’s left is the signature- online, nowadays, is sufficient- and swallows her pride to flash a weak smile Tobin’s way.

Their hands meet over the laptop where they’re both cross-legged on the bed.

“I’m gonna do it.”

Alex squeezes Tobin’s fingers, fighting a wave of panicky nausea.

“I know.”

Tobin signs her name by typing it and when she closes the laptop Alex launches at her and hugs her so earnestly that they end up lying on the bed like that, Tobin on her back, Alex with her arms wound around Tobin’s waist.

.,.

Tobin’s only mandate is that they don’t release news of her leaving the US until the day she does it. When she wakes up the morning she’s set to fly, she notices first that Alex is missing, and second that there’s a headline left for her to read on the laptop Alex has placed on the nightstand.

“Tobin Heath joins Paris Saint Germain,” she mutters under her breath. Her phone is already blowing up with texts- in a rare moment of forethought she opens the Twitter app and types out something that makes her feel a little less guilty for pulling the rug out from under half the people she knows:

@TobinHeath 22 Jan  
Au revoir yo

.,.

There’s no question whether or not Tobin will go to the airport alone. It would be less suspicious if she did, but it’s out of the question and Alex knows that Tobin knows that. They don’t speak on the way. It’s a twenty minute drive and neither of them says a word. There’s some jostling when they get out, as Alex helps Tobin with her bags and digs out Tobin’s passport from the glove compartment, where- without her help- she might have left it.

They speak briefly as they head through security, but nothing of substance. Alex is struggling to think of something meaningful to say- she knows the situation calls for it, but she can’t come up with anything. It just feels wrong that everything is ending so suddenly. It feels wrong to be shipping Tobin overseas. It feels wrong that she can’t let it go and resign herself to long-distance for the sake of someone she loves.

They stand at the gate, and it’s early enough that there’s nearly nobody there. Anyone who might be is busy enough sleeping or reading the newspaper or eating breakfast to ignore them; Tobin leans against a column and Alex leans against her. It’d be too far to reach for Tobin’s hand, but Alex contents herself with the solid warmth of Tobin’s shoulder through her shirt. They could still just be friends. They could just be tired friends.

That’s what she tells herself, anyway. When they call Tobin’s zone they make their way toward the line, and that’s where Alex starts to realize she ought to leave. She can’t get on the plane and she shouldn't’ stay in line and take up space. Tobin gets it before she makes a move, and turns to hug her.

.,.

With her arms around Alex’s neck, Tobin fights back her nervousness and her sadness and the hundreds of other things that she’s feeling. The line’s not moving fast enough for it to matter that the hug lasts forever. When Alex starts to pull away, Tobin squeezes her close again.

There are a thousand things she could say and a thousand more that she _should_ say. None of those come out of her mouth, in the end. She presses her lips to Alex’s ear, closing her eyes, and does what she can to cut Alex free.

.,.

“Don’t wait up.”

.,.

She cries as soon as she closes the door of the car.

She cries like that for a solid five minutes, and then when she reaches into the backseat for the tissues she stashes in one of the seat pockets she sees the jacket Tobin left there and starts crying all over again. She dries her eyes eventually and drives home, and then when she gets home she realizes she’s been broken up with and cries some more.

When she’s done crying she gets mad, and with nobody to blame but herself the only thing she can think to do is run. When she’s done running she curls up on the couch and stares blankly at the TV screen until her phone beeps with the alarm she set and she checks Delta to see that Tobin’s plane has landed.

Tobin doesn't text her. It's the first time Tobin hides from her.

.,.

ALEX  
iMESSAGE  
JAN 25

how does it feel?

.,.

TOBIN  
iMESSAGE  
JAN 25

like home.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the epilogue.

The game against the Netherlands hurts. 

She doesn’t start, and even with Abby jostling in next to her on the bench with a thousand-watt smile, it sucks more than it should. Every time Press touches the ball Alex swears she can see her career slipping away. Every time Tobin catches her eye Alex feels a clench in her gut. Every time Abby nudges her, tries to get her into the game, all she wants to do is get up and pace- and she knows she’s not being fair, but she can’t help it. She’s lost Tobin to Paris and she’s losing her sport to a girl she hardly even knows (who, to add insult to injury, is attached to Kelley by the hip).

Tobin scores the opening goal, thirty six minutes in, and it’s off an assist from Sydney that looks rehearsed. Christen’s the one with her hand on Tobin’s back and Alex can’t shake the thought that it ought to be her- that only gets worse when Tobin runs for the bench, and despite everything Alex could swear she’s running right at _her_ but she goes to Abby and leaps onto her, smile so wide it takes over her face.

The game is over before Alex even goes in, and she knows it, even though she she does her best to keep from giving up. She fights it until the end, then when it is the end she fights a little more internally. They’re all going out to celebrate, and she has to fight herself to go along- all she really wants to do is go back to the hotel and sleep it off.

The party makes things even worse.

Out of the corner of her eye she sees Kelley and Christen, and Kelley’s following Christen around like there’s nobody else in the room, and Abby’s laugh from across the room still sounds like it’s in her ear so she pushes outside and takes a deep breath.

She pulls her phone out of her pocket to check the time as she rounds the corner, and when she does she almost runs right into Tobin. 

She drops her phone but Tobin catches it with an easy laugh and rights it before she hands it back; the screen is still lit and Alex is glad because it gives her another half a second to lock her phone before she has to interact.

She misses Tobin. She misses Tobin so much that she aches with it, and that alone would be bad enough but it doesn’t look like Tobin’s hurting for her and that makes it worse.

Tobin’s the one to break the silence, nodding at the dark phone in Alex’s hand.

“He seems nice.”

She has to unlock it to see what Tobin’s talking about, and that’s when she realizes that her background is a picture of her and Allie and Allie’s boyfriend. She’d chosen it as a joke, because Greg has an arm around her shoulders and is barely touching Allie at all.

“That’s Allie’s boyfriend,” she says, a little too defensively. “He’s an affectionate drunk. And a lightweight.”

Tobin laughs again, light and lilting, and Alex wants to strangle herself. 

“Right. Perfect for her.”

“He is.” The rest of her sentence hangs in the air between them: _not that you’d know_.

She remembers making Tobin feel guilty before she even left and she won’t do it again, because she knows she’s misdirecting her anger. She’s not mad at Tobin, she’s mad at herself for not being a big enough person to let Tobin go. Because she hasn’t. And she’s not sure that she’ll be able to.

She realizes that she’s faced with one of those moments where she can either say what’s playing out in her head or make small talk, and where she’d normally stay safe and let Tobin take a risk, she’s just upset enough by Tobin’s presumptuousness to let it fly.

“Did you really think I was- that he was dating me?”

Tobin shrugs. 

“Just looked like it, I guess. I only saw the picture for a sec though.”

“No,” Alex pushes, hearing the urgency in her own voice, “I mean, when you told me not to wait up, did you really expect me to move on?”

Tobin’s smile falls, but she doesn’t look hurt, she just looks like she’s realizing this conversation is serious and she needs to be mature about it.

“I didn’t expect you to do anything. I just didn’t want you to feel like you had to wait for me.”

“But, when you- I mean, when you came back you acted like we were just friends, so did you assume that I’d moved on, or did you?”

“Did I what?”

“Move on?”

Alex’s voice cracks when she says it and Tobin pauses, giving her a long, pointed look. She’s about to open her mouth and speak again when Tobin reaches out and slides a hand around the back of her neck, and then Alex freezes, unsure of herself. Tobin’s thumb brushes the skin just below her ear, where she’s sensitive, and she goosebumps immediately, even before Tobin leans in to kiss her.

It’s different. It’s been a few months, but even still, she knows something is different; something in _Tobin_ has changed. There’s power in that kiss; in the line of Tobin’s shoulders and the possessiveness of that hand cupped behind Alex’s neck. Alex wonders if she’s the only person Tobin’s kissed like this; if there’s been anyone for Tobin between this and the last time they kissed, but she refuses to pull away and ask. 

The kiss lingers, but it doesn’t go anywhere. 

“I love you,” Tobin says. “No way did I move on from that.”

.......

Tobin, in typical fashion, doesn't think to tell anyone she's coming back to Portland. She doesn't even think to tell Alex. She's too busy packing and when she gets to Portland she realizes she doesn't have an apartment and rents a car big enough for her to sleep in. She's done that before, many times; she's been a nomad and she's been homeless and she doesn't mind it at all as long as there are cleats and a ball in her trunk. 

She's only there for two days before her first practice and when she shows up is when she realizes she really ought to have said something to Alex. After the party in the Netherlands they'd kept in touch on and off, but nothing had been set in stone. They'd left it at 'I love you'- across an ocean that was enough. Now Tobin's not really sure what they're doing. She just wants to play. 

Alex tackles her when she shows up in the locker room. She hugs back even as she falls against a closed locker, laughing, and then Allie's there too, squeezing her half to death. When she's allowed to breathe it's Bue's turn. 

"You didn't say you were coming!"

"I forgot."

Alex is crying a little and she's not trying to hide it, but she's smiling through it, so Tobin doesn't mind. She's braver now and reaches out to wipe away Alex's tears with her thumbs in full view of the entire room- Alex launches into her arms again and it's thirty seconds at least before they part to get dressed and ready. 

They spend that practice building around her. The coach puts her right in the attacking center mid spot, and Tobin- after months in Paris- knows where to look. She finds Alex with pinpoint accuracy. She's almost always been able to do that. The difference is that now she takes shots of her own. The difference is that now she has the confidence to change the game. 

It's sticky at first, because the Thorns have to adjust and Tobin does, too, but it works. They can tell that it works without even being in a game setting. The smile on Tobin's face when they leave the field is there all the way out to her car, and that's where Alex catches up to her at a jog, smiling right back at her as she pops the trunk. 

"Where are you staying?"

"...uh."

The trunk open, Tobin's makeshift bed is open to scrutiny. Alex laughs at it- and probably at Tobin, who knows she probably looks as bewildered and stupid as she feels- with her head tilted back, swinging her bag over one shoulder.

“Oh my God, _Tobin_.”

Alex is still laughing when she comes for Tobin. She wraps her arms around Tobin’s neck but stays back far enough to look at her; Tobin’s hands instantly go to her hips. 

Loving Alex is like riding a bike: Tobin knows she’ll never forget how to do it.

If things go the way she expects them to, they’ll never go back to the way they were, but for Tobin that’s okay. She has proof now that Alex can love her and still let her grow. She has confidence in herself now that she didn’t have before, but she also has confidence in their love that she didn’t have before, a love that can span an ocean or a country or a few inches with the same strength and the same warmth and the same meaning. 

She’s learned that wherever she is, she can take Alex with her, and that’s more valuable to her than any combination of skill and practice ever could be. She must be spacing out a little, because Alex tilts down, and- in the parking lot, where anyone could see them- kisses her square on the lips.

.,.

“Come home.”


End file.
